Second Chance
by WingsOfAFallenDetective
Summary: Sherlock and John are on a case when a homicide in a passing flat changes their lives forever. Parentlock. Eventual Johnlock. Rated M for mentions of abuse, drugs, slight language and smut. Updated every Saturday (when I'm available to) xox
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 1: Helpless

Running through the streets of London; moon bright in the sky, rain lashing at your face and wind clawing at your body is a normal occurrence for the world's only Consulting Detective and Doctor John Watson.

"John, go down Marylebone Street. I'll go down Wigmore. We should trap him."

John separates from his friend, running down the adjoining street to intercept the criminal like told as a gunshot echoes.

_Sherlock_? John immediately panics, the solider and medic in him raging with each other whether which who is a bigger priority, the criminal or Sherlock? A male silhouette emerges running towards him but the threat of Sherlock being hurt still makes him dither. Just as the man realises he's ran into a trap and slows John runs towards him. The felon uppercuts John's jaw and goes for a blow on his ribs, missing by millimetres as John leans back, the blow to his jaw leaving him standing unsteadily. John sweeps his foot anti-clockwise, swiping the man's legs from under him resulting in him whacking his head back on a lamppost. As he lies dazed on the ground, John punches him across the temple knocking him unconscious. He cuffs him to the lamppost and stands back panting, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth and waiting for his dizziness to ease. Remembering Sherlock, he rushes to Marylebone Street.

Sherlock immediately crouches and presses himself against a wall when he hears the gunfire. He looks up at a flat above him where the shot rang from, the room illuminating as the bullet was fired. Silence restores and he moves back to get a clearer view of the room, when he hears whimpering next to him. _A stray dog? _He lifts up garbage bags, his nose wrinkling from the stench of decomposing food and finds a toddler underneath. _Child is about 12 months old. A boy. _Sherlock looks over the child; fear is etched onto his face, his bright blue eyes wide and watery, his brown, curly hair is tangled and dirty, his clothes are torn and filthy from rarely if ever being washed. The boy moves further against the dumpster; pulling himself by his arms. He tries to push himself back with his legs but cries loudly in pain. _One of his legs is fractured and the other has a deep cut, about 2 inches.__ Sherlock looks about and sees a bloodied shard of glass from a beer bottle.__ Bruises cover most of his face and body suggesting abuse._ Sherlock bends down and goes to carefully pick him up but the boy flinches when Sherlock moves his hands towards him. _He's not very vocal. Told to be quiet often._

"I'm not going to hurt you." Sherlock says softly.

He slowly removes his coat and smiles faintly at the boy, attempting to reassure him. He wraps his coat around him, his hands brushing against the boy's skin. It is as cold as ice. He can see his body shivering and that his lips are blue although he's not at danger from hypothermia. He picks the child up making sure the Belstaff is enclosed around him and holds him in one arm against his chest, making sure not to move him too much given his injuries. He walks slowly up the stairs to the flat, the corridor covered in clues. _Nail indents in the wall. Tuft of short hairs on the stairs. Signs of a struggle. _Sherlock sees drops of red up rotting stairs until he reaches the door of a flat, its door partly open. Empty bottles of vodka and whisky litter the floor making Sherlock tread carefully over the broken glass as he walks into the living room. One of the cushions on the sofa has a spring extruding from it, a chipped mug half filled with coffee sits on a table along with bags containing a white substance. _Cocaine_. He turns to the left and walks into the kitchen; unwashed dishes spill out of the sink, a few baby food jars growing mould lay scattered on a work top and a variety of drugs and money cover the table. He walks into the only bedroom; male clothes occupy the wardrobe and bed. A small pile of female clothes are neatly folded in a corner along with two child onesies and a bag of nappies. He walks back into the living room and turns his head to his right. A woman is sprawled face down on the carpet, bruises covering her body also and distinct hand marks surround her throat. _Supposed mother, also a__bused frequently. Strangled to death._ Next to her is a man. Sherlock bends down and looks over him. _Fingers stained yellow by nicotine. Clothes unchanged for at least 3 days. No personal hygiene. He has been a drug dealer 10 years and an alcoholic for 12 years._

He looks over the evidence and pieces the event together; _The wife attempts to leave the flat. She knows she will not get far as she is too weak and fearing for the child's safety she tries to hide him behind the bins. The husband reaches her first and pulls her back causing the child to be flung, hitting the bins and glass as he falls. The boy drags himself to safety. Pain must have been great but fear drove him on. The husband tows her upstairs by her hair and in a drunken rage strangles her. Most likely fearing prison rather than regret he shoots himself._

John reaches the alley and calls out for Sherlock. Sherlock looks to the window, John's voice pulling him out of his thoughts and joins him outside. John sighs when he sees Sherlock is unharmed but looks puzzled as to why he is holding a child and why he was in that building.

"Care to explain?"

"I'll tell you later."

John looks over the child and frowns.

"He needs medical attention immediately."

"Call Lestrade and an ambulance."

"Already on it."

Sherlock looks over the boy whose grimy face is not joyous like my toddlers, he is scarred.

"What have they done to you?" He says more to himself than to the boy. Seeing this helpless being recoil from human touch makes his heart drop but it also makes him feel somewhat protective of him, not wanting anyone to hurt his innocence again.

He thinks of ways to get him feeling safe, bringing up memories of what calmed him as a child. He cradles the child against his chest and holds him loosely as to not hurt him. He strokes his hair gently and the child slowly relaxes into his touch. Soon after, he is asleep in his arms from exhaustion and pain his hands entangled on Sherlock's collar and hair. John ends the call, his face solemn.

"There's been an explosion on the underground, the guy we caught, there were two of them. Manholes have been leaking gas, meaning fires are starting in populated areas, mainly people smoking outside nightclubs so diversions delay them and the ambulance for at least 50 minutes. I…er I should probably realign his leg."

"He's not under any anaesthetic; the pain will be too much."

"Sherlock, it's almost penetrating his flesh! The bones would have already started healing and if I don't he may not be able to walk for the rest of his life."

"Wait a minute." Sherlock hands the boy to John cautiously before running into the flat and grabbing the nearest bottle he can find, a half-empty flagon of scotch, surprisingly intact, sits next to the couch. He grabs a plastic cup, rinses it and runs back outside, pouring the amber liquid into the cup. He wakes the boy in John's arms and puts the cup to his lips. He drinks from it thirstily. _Deprived of food and water._

Sherlock pulls the bottle away and almost immediately the toddler's grip loosens on him and his body becomes more tranquil. John stares at Sherlock.

"You care for him."

"Just do it." Sherlock replies ignoring John's statement and takes back the drowsy, if not slightly drunk child from John.

"I'm so, so sorry." John whispers to the child, unwrapping him from Sherlock's coat so he can get to his leg. He re-breaks the tibia and realigns it. The toddler inhales sharply and whimpers, gripping Sherlock's coat tightly before loosening his grip and almost falling unconscious. Sherlock shudders and his brow furrows in worry. _He must have been use to quite a substantial amount of pain to not have screamed or have gone unconscious._ After that piece of information registers with his conscious he hands the child to John, walking away from them and growls loudly, throwing the scotch bottle against the wall. He walks back to the child and holds his hand as John holds him against his body soothingly. The child looks up at Sherlock and then at John. He rests his head back on John's shoulder and holds onto one of Sherlock's fingers until the ambulance arrives.

Sirens sound, the loud noise alarming the boy. John gives his statement and directs as to where he cuffed the criminal whereas Sherlock sits against a dumpster staring vacantly at the wall. John excuses himself from the police and approaches Sherlock.

"Hey," Sherlock looks up at John, his eyes deprived of everything, "You ok?"

"Humanity."

"Huh?"

"That child has done nothing to deserve the way he's been treated. He's defenceless. I've seen murders, serial killings, rapists yet this…my own childhood was full of torment and I'm still mocked although it doesn't bother me as much now. I had Mycroft to help but he has no-one and suffering alone is something no-one should have to go through."

Sherlock's eyes are teary and he runs his hands through his hair then over his face. He stands up and starts walking down the alley away from the noise of voices and sirens. John walks behind him. When they are around a corner Sherlock turns around and hugs John. He doesn't cry. He just wants to be held. To know he's not alone anymore. John hugs him back tightly. He's not alone anymore either.

After a while they separate and join the police again. Sherlock holds onto John's jacket until there's a chance they'll be seen. He gives his statement first on where he found the criminal and what he was doing and then of the gunshot and finding the boy. Ignoring their protests of wanting more information he turns to John.

"I want to go home." He says, his voice weary.

"Ok."

...

**A/N – Next chapter will be uploaded on Friday 18th, a week's time. Check out my other Sherlock/Johnlock stories meanwhile xox**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 2: Saviour

John makes his goodbyes to Lestrade and they head home. Baker Street is only one road away so they set off at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sight if the stars above them. Sherlock holds onto the bottom of John's jacket and then moves across to his hand. As they reach the flat Sherlock takes off his coat, scarf and shoes discarding them on the floor and waits until John has finished removing his too. He grabs John's hand again and takes him to his room. He doesn't bother to change his clothes but instead lays them both on the bed, him spooning John since he is taller and puts his arm across John. John takes his hand and settles down, going along with Sherlock since both are tired from the night's events. All this is done in silence. No questions asked. No questions needed. All they need is each other's comfort.

…

The next day John wakes remembering what happened only hours before. He turns and see's Sherlock still asleep, a small smile forming on his lips as he ponders when Sherlock had last slept. He sits up rubbing his shoulder, the unfamiliar mattress causing it to ache. Sherlock stirs slightly and marginally opens his eyes.

"Morning." John greets before standing up and stretching.

"Morning." Sherlock replies his voice thick from sleep. His eyes dilate as the memories of the night before return.

"I want to see him." Sherlock positions.

"The boy?"

"Yes."

"Visiting hours are from 2pm till 8pm I think."

"We're going now."

When Sherlock is determined to do something he does it no matter what the consequences. Not bothering to argue the matter, John leaves the bedroom, making tea while Sherlock showers and changes before they swap, Sherlock drinking the tea he made while he showers and gets dressed. Before they leave John sends a text to Greg saying that they are going to see the toddler at the hospital now so he can call the hospital and they will be expecting them.

After a familiar cab journey to St. Bartholomew's, Sherlock heads to child intensive care unit following signs and intuition. The child is a separate room, alone, multiple needles and tubes cover his malnourished body. He opens the door slowly and walks up to him, looking him over. He picks up a cork board dangling from string, listing what is and was wrong with him:

_Name__: Unknown - called XY_

_Gender__: Male_

_Birthday__: June 13__th__ 2013 (approximately)_

_Physical Trauma:_

_3__rd__ and 4__th__ rib splintered on right side_

_Fractured left leg_

_3" cut on right leg – glass shards removed from cut_

_Old and recent scars on neck, back and hands_

_Bruising covers 73% of his body_

_Rapid heartbeat_

_Startled easily_

_Insomnia – had to be sedated although he hasn't slept properly in months_

_Psychological Trauma:_

_Severe fear of strangers_

_Dislikes being touched – flinches, cries, moves away_

_(Evaluate more at a later stage – depending on social uneasiness take to infant social group)_

_Other factors:_

_Fed breast milk occasionally_

_Hasn't had a wash for at least 9 months – had hair lice and is recovering from pityriasis rosea_

_Parents are deceased – will be taken by social services to an orphanage when leg heals_

Sherlock hands the board to John who when he finishes reading it whispers;

"Jesus."

Sherlock pulls up a chair next to the boy and analyses him. _Washed three times. Hair brushed. Changed nappy. _The boy has practically been sterilised. John stands behind Sherlock, placing his hands on the chair as he too looks at the child, the steady beeping of his heart giving him reassurance. Sherlock leans forwards and puts his hands under his chin, thinking.

_His future will most likely be troublesome without parents or nurturing. He will resort to drugs and alcohol like his parents to drown his sorrows and memories. He will reject friends, not trusting anyone. He will be bullied for having no friends but will respond violently most likely being expelled from at least 4 no 6 schools through his adolescence. All of this will make him an unwanted candidate for adoption. If he stays alone by the time he's 20 he will most likely commit suicide._

Sherlock leans back in the chair, surveying the child once more.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I would appreciate it if you don't make a snide remark but I want to adopt this child." John looks down at Sherlock shocked. _He obviously cares for the boy. We have enough money to afford a few child necessities but we know nothing of raising a child._

"Ok." Sherlock turns his head and looks at John, assessing whether his response is genuine. He smiles and turns back facing the child.

"Do you know his name? Did you see anything in the flat?" John asks.

"No."

"Do you want to name him?

Sherlock thinks about his and John's names, since they will be sharing custody of the child, they should both have their input.

"Hamish William Watson-Holmes."

"Hamish? You know I hate my middle name."

"And I dislike my first name. Maybe we'll like them now." Sherlock replies smirking.

"You are such a prick sometimes." Sherlock looks up at John and they both laugh, "Fine, Hamish William Watson-Holmes it is."

After he says this his face goes pale.

"Oh God. People are going to think we're married or are a couple or something."

"We can deal with people later. Right now our priority is him."

"I guess you're right." Another question enters his mind so he asks, "What makes you certain that we can look after him?"

"You suffered from PTSD after Afghanistan meaning that you can help him if any symptoms arise. You are also a doctor so that obviously helps. Me? Well I have no idea how to care or look after a child but I want to know he's safe and we can provide him that."

John nods smiling at his logic although unsure of the last part given Sherlock's disregard to safety when experimenting. Sherlock deduces this and adds, "You get what I mean."

Various doctors, dressed in typical white coat attire, walk in saying that they are going to change his bandages and that it's best they leave. Reluctantly Sherlock stands and they walk towards the door, stopping briefly asking if they can be contacted when he can be discharged which will be in approximately 6 weeks. Before they leave, Sherlock goes to the morgue where Molly is currently dissecting a set of lungs.

"Oh Sherlock, hi." Sherlock skips the trivial meet-and-greet and immediately demands,

"On child intensive care unit room 12 there is a young boy. He is 12 months old, has brown, curly hair, blue eyes, one leg is in plaster and he is covered in bruises and pityriasis rosea. I need you to keep an eye on him."

Molly takes in the information, confused and worried at the description of the boy. She looks to John with a questioning look on her face.

"I'll text you later." He responds.

Molly nods then frowns, "I rarely go into the main part of the hospital. Someone may question me as to why I'm there and if it's just to look at people then I may be reported as not doing my job. Especially Maureen, the receptionist, she never liked me." Sherlock takes a step closer to Molly and looks down at her.

"Please." That single word coming from Sherlock Holmes is like an electric shock. It means he needs help or is worried.

"Ok," Molly replies, "I can check after my shift."

"Thank you. Oh and I'll deal with Maureen." With that Sherlock leaves the morgue. John gives Molly a quick hug and catches up with Sherlock. Before they leave Sherlock approaches Maureen at the front desk; he brings up how she left her husband at the altar, how she stole from her mother when she was 17 and that at the rate she's putting on weight she will become obese in 2 months. They exit the hospital leaving the confused middle-aged women in tears.

As they walk back home to baker street John asks,

"Well that was…interesting."

"I presume you're talking about Maureen. She will now leave to go home asking someone to cover her being to humiliated to finished her shift. Molly can now check on Hamish."

John's first thought is _genius _but he just shakes his head in disdain at the whole event.

"What do you want to do now?"

"I'm not sure. I'm too unfocused to take on a case but you know if I'm left doing nothing I'll create hell."

John nods, he's not ready for a 'Sherlock tantrum' right now.

"We could look into Hamish's family. The police should have identified his parents by now."

Sherlock stops walking and looks at John surprised.

"Brilliant."

…

Again delaying their reaching 211B, they instead hail a cab and head to Scotland Yard. Sherlock walks in passing the front desk and heads straight to Lestrade's office. No-one tries to stop him. It's a normal occurrence. The receptionist greets John and he smiles at her warmly. Sherlock catches the transaction in the corner of his eye and waits until they are further away so she won't hear him.

"She's in a relationship; there is an engagement ring on her finger and the bouquet of flowers on her desk has a card in it suggesting an admirer or most likely her fiancée. Plus we're adopting a baby together, I'm sure she'd understand that."

"Someone's jealous." John giggles smirking and Sherlock glares at him.

As they reach Greg's office, they meet Sally leaving it.

"Freak. John." Sherlock bashes past her and John smiles slightly as he follows.

"Sherlock. I was expecting you sooner or later."

"Then you know what I want." John elbows Sherlock and he sighs, "Would like."

"Everything is in these files."

"Thanks."

They turn to leave but Lestrade asks quickly.

"How is he? The boy." Sherlock's expression flickers to one of concern and hurt but he quickly reapplies his mask. Only John catches the slight change in expression.

"He's recovering well. He should have died at least 6 months ago from his numerous injuries at home yet he survived them all. They are going to contact us when he's recovered further."

Lestrade nods and gives John a look saying fill-me-in-later as he's never known Sherlock to care or admire anyone except himself and John. They turn to leave with the cases, hailing a cab and head home.

When they get in the remove their coats, Sherlock additionally taking off his scarf and sit on the couch looking over the files.

_Male victim:__ Anthony Lane_

_Female victim:__ Susanne Lane_

_Status__: Married for 4 years (Registered in a Las Vegas Casino 2010)_

_Jobs and Finance__: Anthony was a bodyguard. He was caught having sex with customers in the toilets or behind the nightclub 3 times. He also got drunk on the job letting minors into the club so he was fired._

_Susanne was a primary school teacher teaching 5 year olds for 7 years. She quit her job to stay at home with the child as Anthony never looked after him._

_Neither have jobs so there was no legal source of income. Their bank accounts show that Anthony spends the majority of their money on alcohol. Ms. Wilson (see below) reported that when Anthony sold drugs they received averagely £1200. Susanne would be given £150 maximum to buy food for them and clothes for her and the baby._

_Family__: Anthony has no known living family. After Susanne married Anthony, her family and other relatives disinherited her. They haven't contacted her for 3 years. Suspected they don't know about the baby._

_Other__: Hamish was never registered suggesting home birth._

_Neighbours reported that he would crawl about, cutting his hands and feet on smashed beer bottles and that he wasn't fed for 3 days when Susanne was on a teaching course in Manchester, Anthony hitting him if he made a noise or held his hands out for food._

_Ms. Wilson, neighbour, states "that when Anthony passed out, she and other neighbours would check on Hamish dreading he would be dead. We couldn't help him much as we feared Anthony, knowing he has a gun, but we would give him slices of bread, a spoonful of baked beans or soup since he can't eat many solids."_

John closes the case once they have finished reading and hands it back to Lestrade thanking him. Afternoon soon turned to evening, as at long last they return to their flat.

"What's going to happen to them?" John asks Sherlock.

"They're still being analysed at the moment but they will be cremated."

"Can we hold a funeral for Susanne? Yes she agreed to marry the man but she, for some mysterious reason, stuck with him, had a child with him and kept herself and Hamish alive. She deserves some respect for what she's done."

Sherlock sits silently, John habitually copying him as he thinks about it.

"We just bury her. No service, we only register her as deceased."

"That's all I ask."

"Ok."

"Thank you." John sighs and hugs Sherlock. Sherlock freezes and John quickly let's go embarrassed. He gets up to leave but Sherlock grabs his hands and tugs him lightly down again. He moves closer to John and tentatively hugs him back. John responds almost immediately and they just stay there, like the night down the alley, just enjoying each other's touch. They disembrace, say their goodnights and go to their rooms not embarrassed anymore but composed and serene.

...

**A/N – Next chapter will be uploaded on Friday 25th, a week's time. Thanks for reviews, favourites and follows :) xox**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 3: Old and New

Six weeks later Hamish is fit enough to be released from hospital. The hospital hand over the clothes Hamish arrived in to D. and asks him whether they will keep the child since he is part of a case.

"I know some people who would like to adopt this child as soon as possible."

"On Wednesday, FosterCare UK are coming in to look over XY, fill in some forms and then place him in foster care. He should be adopted within the first month of being in care since he is so young. Do the people you say would like to adopt XY have adoption forms, have ben DBS checked and have a reference saying that they can take care of a child." Lestrade quickly raises his hands holding all of the above.

The doctor flicks through it making sure all is in order.

"So you two want to adopt this child?"

"Yes."

"Are you…involved? Together?"

"Erm no…no." John splutters going red and Sherlock rolls his eyes at John always defending his 'not gay' label.

"We are close friends and flatmates. We are the people that bought Hami - the boy in."

"Ok. That makes sense. Seeing a vulnerable child usually creates a strong bond immediately."

They nod.

"The detective showed me your files. You are suitable to look after the child. Now I know that we are no adoption agency but we have talked to one. We showed them your credentials too and they agree that you can take XY from the hospital without him going to an orphanage first."

John smiles and Sherlock visibly relaxes and he smiles slightly too.

"When can we take him?" Sherlock asks.

"Now if you're ready. You just need to sign his discharge forms." Sherlock signs the forms and the doctor takes him to leave.

They reach Hamish's room and he is wide awake and in an onesie. He looks much better than he was 6 weeks ago. He bruises and cuts have healed, his skin is clearer and he looks happy. When they walk in the room the doctor quickly stands in front of them,

"Given his history we advise you approach him slowly and do not make any loud sounds that will startle him."

They both nod and walk slowly to Hamish. The boy looks up at them vacantly and then he stretches his hand out to Sherlock holding his finger like when he was on the alley. He then let's go and stretches both his arms up to John to pick him up. John looks to the doctor and the doctor nods. John picks him up and Hamish puts his arms around him familiarly.

"He's responding really well to both your presences. There should be little problems in him settling in.

John sets Hamish back in his crib so he can see them further. He gurgles happily and stretches his arms again.

Sherlock picks him up awkwardly at first and then settles him against his chest.

"What are you going to call him?"

"Hamish William Watson-Holmes. May we leave now?" Sherlock asks before some nosy nurse wants to know the origin of the names.

"How are you getting back to your apartment?"

John pulls Sherlock aside.

"We're going to have to walk home." John states.

"Why?" Sherlock asks.

"We need a child car seat in order for him to be safe in a vehicle. We have nothing to keep him safe if we got a taxi."

"If we carried him home as he is he will be cold."

John looks to the doctors.

"Can we have a blanket?"

"Of course."

They walk back over John wraps Hamish in the blanket perfectly, like a burrito and Sherlock gives him a quizzical look.

"When I got back from Afghanistan I stayed with my family for a while. My mum's sisters would come across with her new born and I would help tuck her in."

Sherlock removes his scarf, opening it out and makes a baby sling from it. John looks at him curiously this time.

"I've been…er researching how to look after a child." John smiles broadly, proud.

"Oh do stop smiling John." Sherlock scowls then they both smirk at the ridiculousness of their quarrelling.

They put Hamish in the baby sling they walk home in the calm night breeze. When they arrive back (at (9:30pm), Hamish is asleep and both men are tired. Sherlock takes Hamish out of his scarf and hands him to John so he can take of his coat and scarf then John hands Hamish back so he can take off his jacket.

"Where should he sleep?" Sherlock whispers.

"Er, your room? Your bed is bigger than mine."

Sherlock looks at the child asleep and smiles.

"Well night." John says and turns to leave for his room.

"Oh, er, John?"

"Yeah?"

"If he…can you…you can come in here whenever you want." Sherlock states awkwardly.

"Thanks." John replies smiling and continues walking to his room. _He's really nervous, it's kind of cute. _John stops walking and flushes red and checks he's alone. He continues walking. _What is wrong with me? Anyway I'll check on them when I wake._

…

6:00am

Sherlock wakes up suddenly when he feels he's suffocating and sits up fast. As he gasps for breathe he looks about for the intruder and then looks to his lap where a young boy lays on his back from the sudden movement then rolls over to look at Sherlock. John pokes his head around Sherlock's door and sees Sherlock panting, he steps in quickly.

"Are you ok?"

"I…I'm fine. It seems Hamish has been awake and was I guess touching my face. He was holding my nose, I couldn't breathe. As I sat up quickly he fell down. We're both fine."

John looks at Hamish who upon seeing both men gurgles happily unknowing that he almost killed one of his fathers.

"I wonder how much sleep he got." John wonders.

Sherlock looks at the boy

"I would say at least 9 hours since he doesn't seem tired."

"I suppose it's one of the best night's sleep he's had in a long time."

"Hmm." Sherlock agrees.

"So, what shall we do today?"

"We usually watch TV on Saturdays and order takeaway but –."

"The doctor said no loud noises and it's bad if we feed him Chinese.'"

"I was getting to that before you interrupted me. I suggest you take care of him while I order stuff for Hamish."

"What are you going to use? Your laptop is currently covered in acid from the case with the hacker and how are you going to pay? You don't take cash."

"I will use your laptop like usual –"

"I changed my password."

"It's never hard you should really stop there's no point and you take the money I don't from clients so I will pay using your bank details."

"You know my pin?"

"Of course."

John looks at Sherlock in annoyance but he's not shocked. They look across the bed, remembering that there is another life in the room and see Hamish crawling to the edge of the bed. John quickly strides over and picks him up before he can fall off.

"Well I'm getting a shower now; a cup of tea would be nice."

John rolls his eyes and heads to the living room with Hamish. He quickly surveys the place to make sure it's as baby safe as it can be; he removes a knife, the skull and a collection of headless nun photos littering the table. He goes to sit Hamish down on a blanket but he doesn't let go so he takes him with him to the kitchen where he makes his and Sherlock's tea. He remembers they have plastic cups from when Sherlock had a phase of melting things so he fills one with milk and sits them on the sofa where the rest of the morning flies by.

2:00pm

Sherlock groans loudly and slams the laptop lid shut.

"Oi! You've already broken your laptop I still want mine in one piece!" John shouts.

Sherlock goes to collapse on the sofa but Hamish is there. He picks him then collapses dramatically on the sofa and John can't help but think it's adorable.

"Bored."

"You've only been looking for a few hours."

"There's so many different products and a; have different uses or functions or little unnecessary features. Can't we just give him to my parents until he's 20?"

"Sherlock. You wanted to adopt him and we have. Persevere."

"Ok well don't complain –"

Just as Sherlock begins another rant his phone rings. He heads to it hoping it's Lestrade with a case but it's his mum.

"What do you want?"

"Sherlock that's no way to speak to your mother."

"Sorry." he mumbles.

John looks up from his book due to hearing him apologising. _Must be his mum._

"That's ok. Now, are you still looking for baby clothes?"

"I haven't told you…Mycroft."

"Mycroft called us this morning saying that you want your old baby clothes, toys and bibs, etc. He didn't say what for but it's you so I won't pry."

"That would be…good. Thank you."

"Oh you're very welcome dear. When do you want them?"

"I can pick them up tomorrow."

"That'll be fine. Ok, see you soon. Will John be coming too?"

"He has to look after – he's busy."

"Well tell him I say hi."

"Yup, will do, bye."

Sherlock hangs up and looks at John knowing he wants to know what's going on.

"Mycroft told my mum that I want my old baby clothes. I don't see why parents keep them but in this case I'm glad she did."

"Does she know about Hamish?"

"No. I suppose Mycroft thinks we should tell her the big news although I haven't told him if you're wondering. He does love to spy on me."

"Don't I know it. Well now we have all the baby stuff you can just relax I guess."

"Oh joy back to doing nothing. Where's your gun?"

"You're joking, right?"

"I'm bored."

"If you haven't noticed you're holding a baby. When Mrs Hudson comes up here to stop you from shooting her wall and finds you…us with a child as well things won't look good."

"Why? Because you're 'not gay'?"

John scowls at Sherlock then continues,

"Also that we have firearms around a child. Social services will be called in and inspections."

"Yes. Yes I've got the picture. I'm still not use to having a child here too. You can entertain me…and Hamish."

"Ok…how?"

"I like seeing Hamish laugh, it makes me happy. Never repeat what I've just said." He threatens John and John raises his arms in the 'surrender' sign, "Read your book out loud, I think he'll like it."

John begins reading his book, the Hobbit aloud and Sherlock sits in his chair and sets Hamish on his lap. They listen intently and Hamish leans back against Sherlock. Sherlock immediately holds him thinking he's falling but he's getting himself comfortable so Sherlock lays him across his lap and he settles against Sherlock's chest. John finishes reading a chapter and Hamish is asleep once more on Sherlock.

"He must be tired although his hospital file did say insomnia."

"Now he's in a more comfortable and safe environment he is sleeping better."

"Yeah. Well it's only 5:00pm and I haven't napped in over 30 years. What do you want to do with the rest of our day?"

"I think I will 'relax' like you said earlier although I _will_ be shooting the wall if I don't have something to do soon. Here."

Sherlock carefully hands Hamish to John who gives him a look saying 'why?'

"I hold him more than you do."

John smiles nonetheless and holds him affectionately.

"I'll put the TV on." John opens his mouth to speak, "Yes I'll turn the volume down."

Sherlock looks at John smugly and John smiles thinking it weird but normal how they know what each other are thinking although he does live with Sherlock Holmes. They spend the rest of the evening watching TV and snuggling with Hamish.

…

**A/N – I am away camping all next week (28****th**** till the 3****rd****) so I won't be able to post chapter 4. I will post a one-shot along with this so you still have something to read. If you haven't already check out my other stories :) xox**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 4: Settling In

Mrs Holmes gives Sherlock his old baby stuff; he manages to leave after looking through his baby album and pictures of him and Mycroft in a bath together.

"Yup. Bye."

Sherlock closes the flat door and exhales.

"Well that was horrid."

"What happened?"

"I was made to look through younger photos of me and Mycroft."

"Remind me to ask your mum for those."

"There's no way in seven hells are you going to see those."

"Try me."

Sherlock glares at John who smiles arrogantly at him.

"Who were you saying bye to?"

"My mum insisted of helping to bring them across."

"Why didn't you invite her in?"

"Really John? When she comes in here and finds Hamish it's not that hard to connect the dots."

"Alright. Anyway, what do you have?"

Sherlock goes downstairs to bring up the boxes left by the stairs. He places 3 boxes by the sofa and empties a box marked 'clothes' onto the floor. John picks up a pale blue onesie and smiles to himself.

"What's with that face?" Sherlock commands startling John.

"Oh, er, what?"

"Your face, you were smiling."

John rolls his eyes but answers, "It's funny imagining you in something this small."

John reaches for Hamish who has been playing with a teddy bear Mrs Hudson gave him. He undresses him and puts him in Sherlock's baby onesie. When he is dressed again Hamish looks about at the two men and then starts patting himself. He gurgles happily at his new outfit.

Sherlock and John both smile at Hamish. Sherlock shakes his head, discarding the emotions that are suddenly there and continues looking through the other boxes. John finishes folding the rest of the onesies, tops and trousers and puts them on Sherlock's bed.

The second box is full of dummies, bath toys, bears and shoes. The dummies are distributed between the living room and Sherlock's bedroom, the bath toys go in the bathroom, John surrounds Hamish with the bears and the shoes are left in the box since he can't walk yet.

The third box if full with baby books; some to read to Hamish such as '_The tiger who came to tea' _and the rest are similar to '_How to look after your baby.' _Sherlock picks up the first book on the pile, Peter Pan. He opens the cover and inside is an inscription just legible; William Sherlock Scott Holmes, age 5 and there's a drawing of himself in a pirate hat sailing a boat with a dog sitting behind him. Sherlock sits on the sofa, the book hanging loosely between his fingers. John looks over at Sherlock who has suddenly stilled and sees two emotions covering his face; sadness and happiness.

…

"Come on Redbeard we need to find the treasure."

Sherlock jumps from his bed and runs out of his room holding a treasure map which his dad made him.

_Pass the room of the grumpy monster but do so at your own peril!_

Sherlock tiptoes past Mycroft's room and plants himself against the wall as he passes.

"Good boy." He whispers and Redbeard joins him.

_Next take 5 steps north into the lake. On the lake is a puzzle. Ye must complete it to continue ye quest._

Sherlock looks up and see's the bathroom.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5."

He opens the door and looks in the bath; a toy octopus sits on a dog biscuit on a toy boat. A note is stuck to the wall above the bath. _Ye must recover the treasure but ye cannot touch the octopus and the boat must stay afloat._ To the left of them is a toy fishing rod which hooks onto a rig on the octopus' head. Sherlock picks up the rod and tries to hook it octopus. His tongue pokes out of his mouth in concentration and within 3 minutes he hooks it and tosses it into the water.

"Come here Redbeard."

Redbeard looks over the bath, using his hind legs to stand.

"Careful." Sherlock whispers as he waits for the biscuit to be retrieved. Redbeard opens his mouth and grabs the biscuit. The boat rocks and tilts into the water slightly but when Redbeard comes back down on all-fours the boat hasn't sunk.

"Yay!" Sherlock shouts.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft yells and storms to the bathroom.

"The monster!" he gasps and crawls through Mycroft's legs. Him and Redbeard run downstairs and stop in the hallway. He looks at the last message on the map.

_Follow the smell and ye will find the treasure._

Sherlock sniffs and smells 3 distinct scents but doesn't know which smell to follow knowing two will be fake. One smells like his mother's perfume, the second smells like biscuits and the third smells like fish. He sighs and turns the map over reading a clue. _Trust your gut instinct._

Sherlock looks up smiling and dashes to the kitchen where he sees a plate full of biscuits in the shapes of treasure chests and pirate hats all decorated with icing and are surrounded with chocolate coins. There is a plate full of dog biscuits too. He walks up to it but he is picked up by a large pirate.

"Not so fast matey. I have to see whether ye passed the test."

"Redbeard, drop."

Redbeard drops the biscuit at their feet.

"I see ye passed the test. Congratulations ye found the treasure."

Sherlock is placed back onto the ground and they all sit around the kitchen table. The large pirate takes off his hat and fills two cups with milk.

"Did you have fun?"

"I loved it dad! I accidentally disturbed the monster but we just survived."

Mr Holmes laughs and gives Sherlock his milk. They eat their biscuits made by Mrs Holmes and Sherlock feeds Redbeard his prize too.

"Can we play again tomorrow?"

"Sorry Sherlock I have to work tomorrow, today was my day off. I can play again in two weeks hopefully."

"Ok." Sherlock says sadly. Mr Holmes picks him up and spins him around causing him to laugh.

"There you go, now you're happy again. We still have the rest of the day to play together."

"Can we watch TV?"

"Sure."

Sherlock quickly eats his last biscuit and drinks his milk. He takes his dad's hand and they walk to the living room.

…

John walks over to Sherlock and places a hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Are you ok?"

Sherlock jumps at the contact and closes his eyes nodding. He opens his eyes and closes the book. His face is almost expressionless again but John can see the pain in his eyes that remembering his childhood has brought him.

"You don't have to keep things bottled up."

"It's for the best."

"Your eyes are sad yet there's a faint smile on your lips..."

Knowing John wants an answer he decides to open up briefly.

"My dad would read me this book most nights. It was one of my favourites. Whenever he had a day off work he would make me a pirate map directing me to puzzles throughout the house, once they were completed I could find the treasure. Redbeard, my dog, was always involved and there would always be a reward for him too. Anyway to answer your unasked question, yes I am sad as Redbeard was the closest thing I had to a bestfriend while I was a child and his death destroyed me but playing with him and my Dad...it is one of the few happy memories I have from my childhood."

John can see that Sherlock is still hurting so he sits next to him, closer than usual but he doesn't initiate anything. Sherlock moves closer and rests his head on John's shoulder. He knows that this is becoming a habit but contact with John calms him.

"The more we do to look after Hamish the further into our own childhoods we will go."

"I know…." Sherlock whispers and drifts off.

"My childhood wasn't perfect either. Harry was expelled from numerous schools for being drunk on school premises so we moved a lot meaning I didn't have many friends. My dad left us briefly because she wasn't heterosexual and my mum didn't talk or do much after that. I grew up practically fatherless…" John stops talking as his voice starts shaking. He clears his throat. Sherlock sits up and holds John's hands."

"Well you're not alone now and neither am I."

"You're awfully human since we found Hamish"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It's weird but it's nice you opening up to me for once."

"Hmmm. So you like that I show my emotions even though I don't want to and that I'm more physical?"

"I just…I like that you trust me. Anyway, we should finish unpacking"

"Ok." They stand up still holding hands then let go as they go about putting stuff away.

"Oh."

Sherlock opens a box full of baby food, milk formula, plastic plates, plastic cutlery and clear plastic beakers. On top is a note. _A month supply of food for your child. Good luck brother dear. – MH_

"What?" John asks.

"Mycroft is sticking his nose into business that does not require him again."

"You know we should thank him."

Sherlock glares at him.

"Ok, I'll thank him."

"Where is Hamish?"

They stare at each other having forgotten about the child which all this is for. They look about the living room to where he last was. Movement comes from under the pile of teddies laid on the floor earlier. They remove some and find the boy wriggling about the soft toys. He looks at them and smiles. Sherlock picks him up and holds him against his chest.

"Ok. We need to always know where he is."

"Deal."

"It's been 2 days since he's eaten or drank anything relatively nutritious."

John picks a bottle of baby food, sweet squash and chicken, out of the box and places the tub of milk powder on the side. He makes up the milk and warms up the food in one of the plastic bowls.

"Could we order takeaway tonight?"

"So you're finally going to start eating?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes but replies, "I don't have a case and although I'm bored out of my skull I won't be taking any for a while. I might as well eat. It gives me something to do."

John smirks and calls their usual Chinese takeout. Sherlock picks up the bowl with the blended food and starts spooning it to Hamish. Hamish's eyes go wide as he a familiar taste enters his mouth. He looks at Sherlock as if he's a stranger.

"I know the last time you ate it was your mother feeding you. I am not your mother but you are under our protection and I will make sure you're fed and that you're warm and that you're safe."

Hamish looks at Sherlock, he's not vacant and it seems what he just said Hamish understood. He opens his mouth and Sherlock spoons in another mouthful of the yellow mush. When the bowl is empty he hands Hamish the beaker with milk and he starts drinking it. Sherlock sits in his chair, still cradling Hamish and picks up one of the '_How to look after your baby.'_ The rest of the evening passes by quickly; they eat their dinner and John joins Sherlock reading the parenting books, they differentiate between who holds Hamish.

John stretches and looks at his watch.

"We should put Hamish to bed."

Sherlock checks his phone, 9:30pm. John puts down his book and holds Hamish close to his chest as he walks to Sherlock's room. He lays Hamish on to bed and wraps a blanket around him before kissing his forehead and exiting the room.

9:40pm

Loud cries echo through the flat and John and Sherlock sit up immediately. They look to each other and then run to Sherlock's room. John keeps a hand on his gun in his back pocket thinking there's an intruder but when they enter the crying stops and Hamish stretches his arms to them.

"Isn't he tired?" Sherlock asks yawning.

"I don't think he likes being left alone."

"Oh." Sherlock yawns again and rubs his eyes.

"Well _you_ are tired so go rest. I can look after him until he goes back to sleep."

Sherlock nods and goes to lie in his bed. He picks up Hamish and hands him to John.

_I'm never tired…why am I tired?_

"John?" Sherlock calls drearily.

"Yes?"

"I think I'm ill…I'm never tired."

"You haven't taken a case in weeks so you're not using your brain as much. Keeping a constant eye on Hamish and settling him into a regular routine means that you are settling into that routine too like an ordinary person."

"But I'm not like ordinary people…" he says quietly.

"Well you haven't slept adequately for a long time so this is your body catching up."

Sherlock just nods and falls to sleep immediately.

"Now I have two children to look after."

John places Hamish on Sherlock and drapes a blanket over them. He looks at them both. _It's funny how similar they are; Hamish could be mistaken as Sherlock's biological son despite his blue eyes._

Sherlock shifts slightly and drapes an arm across Hamish. John smiles adoringly and returns to the living room to put all the books and toys away before he heads to his own bed and surrenders to a serene sleep.

…

**A/N – Thanks for all the lovely reviews :) Next chapter will be uploaded on Friday 8****th**** xox**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 5: Freedom

8:30pm

"Boys? There's a package here for you."

"About time." mumbles Sherlock as he leaves the flat.

Sherlock joins Mrs Hudson downstairs, signs the parcel papers and drags the box to the bottom of the stairs.

"John!"

John comes down too standing at the other side of the parcel; they take a side each and carry it into their flat.

"Oh…ok." Mrs Hudson dithers before heading back to her flat.

…

"So what is this?" John asks when they place the package on the floor.

"A cot."

"Oh."

"Why 'oh'?"

"Well he's been sleeping really well with us and changing that pattern may disrupt his sleep"

"I just thought because the majority of children his age sleep in cots we should have one. I didn't think…why didn't I think of that?" Sherlock criticises annoyed thinking he's disappointed John.

"Sherlock, don't worry. It's really good you bought it. The majority of children aren't abused though but we can see how he responds since he had a cot. It's late now anyway."

They build the cot in just under an hour; Sherlock complaining that the instructions are wrong 90% of the time but with his quick brain and John's skill of assembling things it is built in half the time suggested. They move it into Sherlock's room keeping it close by his bed.

John picks up Hamish from Sherlock's bed and lays him in the cot. Hamish stirs at being moved and looks around his new destination. His expression changes from peaceful to fearful and he starts whimpering quietly.

"Why is he doing that? We're still in the room."

"He's slept on us since he's been here, he may not be used to sleeping alone. I'm going to try something so we know more about the circumstances, you must not intervene."

Hamish's outstretched hands and desperate cries cause Sherlock to fidget, clenching and unclenching his fists. As they close the door Hamish goes deadly quiet. They wait 10 seconds and open the door. Hamish has pressed himself into a corner and has covered himself with the blanket. Sherlock picks him up and he sobs so Sherlock removes the blanket and looks at Hamish's tear-stained face. His watery eyes look over Sherlock's face and he buries his face into his neck circling his arms around him too.

"I must say this 'experiment' was rather insightful but can we not do that again if we can help it?"

John nods in answer to Sherlock's question. Sherlock strokes Hamish's curls and rubs small circles on his back, calming him.

"Oh, I've got it!" Sherlock cries filling the silence. "In Hamish's eyes we are like his mother. He had to sleep in a room, obviously a cot, alone. He would beg for his mother to take him into her arms but she couldn't…" Sherlock stops talking as more of Hamish's horrid childhood pieces together.

"I still haven't quite understood the picture…could you continue?"

Sherlock looks up suddenly having forgotten he is in company. Usually, John would roll his eyes when Sherlock just enters his mind palace ignoring the real world but this is not a cynical matter.

"Oh right well Hamish, knowing that his dad would come in any second predictably drunk, would stop crying and hide in a corner covering himself with the blanket hoping to be left alone. When we are holding him and when he can see us he knows he's safe and that his dad isn't going to hurt him."

Sherlock looks over Hamish more closely and finds he is trembling slightly, is sweating more and that he has wet the bed. He informs John of these facts.

"He's bloody traumatised." John whispers.

"These are clear signs of PTSD for a child; he becomes anxious when he is separated from us, this experience with the cot could be classed as re-experiencing the event in which sweating, trembling and bedwetting are common physical symptoms."

"Can I hold him?"

Sherlock hands Hamish to John who kisses his forehead and holds him comfortingly, lightly bouncing him up and down. A few minutes later he is asleep.

9:20pm

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I…do you want to stay here tonight? You know so Hamish knows he's safe when he wakes."

John debates whether that is the real reason Sherlock thinks he should stay but he doesn't care. He is glad Sherlock can read him like a book and can see that he doesn't want to alone tonight.

"Thanks. I'll, er just go get changed."

John lays Hamish on Sherlock's bed and leaves to change. He quickly washes his face and brushes his teeth before joining Sherlock and Hamish in the bedroom. Sherlock has changed from his formal outfit to a plain t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. When John enters he leaves to go wash. John settles and smiles at Hamish's peaceful body. He gently slips and arm under Hamish so he can't roll off and he places a pillow at the edge of the bed also. Sherlock walks in and turns off the light, He gets in to bed behind John and moves close to him, spooning him.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock asks wondering whether he has crossed a line.

"You're fine." John reassures. If it were any other guy John would be seriously awkward and most likely respond violently but it is Sherlock.

Sherlock stretches an arm over John first stroking Hamish's face with a finger before he moves his arm back to John and keeps it on his chest. He nestles against John resting his head against on his shoulder.

John likes the feeling of Sherlock against him. It does not feel 'gay' although if anyone were to look at them 'gay' would be the immediate label. He likes feeling safe even though owns a Sig Sauer P226 semi-automatic pistol but lying close to his best-friend and their child gives him happiness and doesn't any veteran deserve that?

From that night on they take turns sleeping with Hamish so he continues to be familiar with both of them. Some nights Hamish will cry or he won't settle so on those nights John will join Sherlock, they'd spoon, Sherlock's hand pressed lightly against his chest and they would all sleep soundly.

A month into the rota Hamish begins trembling and wakes up early crying. Sherlock thinks about the cause. _Fever? _He takes Hamish's temperature. _No. Scared? _Sherlock takes the toddlers pulse; it is faster than normal. He is still sweating a lot so Sherlock takes off Hamish's top but keeps on his vest. _He hasn't been vomiting, restricting himself? _Sherlock frowns and checks Hamish's nappy, empty. _He hasn't been passing waste although he shouldn't be able to control when he goes._ There is intelligence in Hamish, compared to most children his age. He understands what John and Sherlock say to him. He can feed and drink by himself which is expected but he also puts his plates and beaker on a surface when he finished. _Could his mum have taught him this? Anthony lived in his own filth; additional mess from the child would most likely not have bothered him so there is no need for him to do this. Why…?_

"He's replaying the events in his mind or he is having flashbacks. Either way he is visualising he's in his old house and it is causing him pain." John says in a flat voice from the kitchen as he prepares Hamish a bottle and Sherlock and himself a cup of tea. Sherlock looks away from Hamish who is crawling around the flat, to John as he explains what Sherlock would have eventually realised. John continues,

"You supressed your emotions and detached yourself from the world whereas I need to feel the thrill of danger constantly or I will relapse into depression. You don't want to feel whereas I need to. I'm not sure how Hamish will deal with his pain but I recommend we try to stop him from dealing with it like we do."

Sherlock nods in agreement and looks back to Hamish as John brings their drinks over.

"He knows he is safe around us…I don't know what to do…" Sherlock enters his mind palace reading over Hamish's file from the hospital and reliving the night he was found. "Hamish never left his flat and we haven't taken him out either. He may think that he is still trapped. It is a similarity and it may be preventing him from healing."

"Right." John agrees, "We could take him outside now; since its early not many people will be around. At least him waking up at 5am has one benefit."

"Ok."

Sherlock picks up Hamish who has almost finished his milk.

"We're going outside Hamish."

Hamish looks at Sherlock quizzically not quite understanding what he said.

"I'll just show you."

Sherlock puts on his coat and they walk out of the flat and down the stairs to the front door. Hamish has been outside before but never in the daytime. When they open the door light comes flooding in and Hamish presses his face on Sherlock's shoulder. A slight breeze plays across their skin so Sherlock covers Hamish with his coat but only enough so that he can still see.

Hamish turns outwards looking at the buildings and cars surrounding them. He stretches an arm outwards grabbing at the sunlight and when he opens his hand it is empty. He looks to Sherlock and shrugs his shoulders confused.

"You can't catch sunlight Hamish." Sherlock replies amused. Hamish frowns and pulls on Sherlock's coat for him to walk out of the door. Sherlock sits on the steps of the flat and rests Hamish in his lap still covering him with his coat. As people pass his eyes widen and he hides behind the coat.

"They're not going to hurt you." Sherlock whispers into his ear and he peeks his head around the coat. They remain sitting on the steps for an hour as Hamish excitedly looks about giggling as leaves float by on the pavement. His eyebrows knit together as he looks about searching for something. He taps Sherlock and raises his shoulders again.

"What's wrong?"

Hamish stretches his arms wanting to be picked up and Sherlock stands. Hamish keeps looking about and peers over Sherlock's shoulder. He sighs as he sees John standing behind them and he makes the grabbing motion for John to take him. They swap Sherlock handing Hamish to John but Hamish keeps hold of Sherlock's coat tugging it. Sherlock takes off his coat and puts it around Hamish and John. Sherlock snickers at how the coat is the full length of John and John scowls at Sherlock but can't help but smile at how ridiculous he must look.

"I'm only staying out here for another 5 minutes before someone sees me like this." John says.

5 minutes pass and they head back inside. For the rest of the day Hamish plays happily and communicates with them through actions more. Since going out and being given that freedom Sherlock and John can see that a hurdle has been overcome.

…

**A/N –Johnlock intensifies ^.^ Chapter 6 put now :) Chapter 7 will be up on Saturday 23rd. I'm glad you guys like it so far, do check out my other stories :) xox**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 6: Silence

Days go by as Sherlock and John look after Hamish but soon their old habits fall back into place. John goes to work while Sherlock takes on small cases from home, of course he whines and complains at the obviousness of these crimes but it's better than nothing.

They agreed to take Hamish outside every morning, watching the sunrise and seeing Hamish laugh with joy as the wind dances around him. Some people would smile at them, others would roll their eyes and some people even stopped walking and commented on how cute and happy their child looked. Understandably John would reply to them so Sherlock didn't say something off-putting or offensive to the kind stranger but as time went on and more compliments were paid Sherlock would say 'Thank you' surprising John but making him proud nonetheless.

It's the evening; John is sitting in his armchair reading with Hamish on his lap while Sherlock lays on the sofa his fingers steepled under his chin.

"It's like we're married." John mumbles unknowingly.

"What?" This remark surprises him and he turns his head to look at John.

"Hmm?"

"You just said it's like we're married."

"Oh, did I? I didn't know I said that aloud." John's cheeks start to go pink and he goes back to reading his book.

"Well you did. Explain."

John sighs at Sherlock's demand and he closes his book putting it on the coffee table.

"Ok, well we're both looking after a child; you stay home while I go to work, we are currently sharing a bed yes it's for Hamish's benefit but even when he is at rest I still join you."

Sherlock toys with the information wondering what John is implying if anything at all.

"Did you…want us to be together?"

John's eyes go wide, his brain supplying him with the response, 'I'm not gay' but he does not speak it, instead he starts asking the questions.

"Would you ever consider us being together – as a couple?"

Sherlock puts his feet down so he's sitting on the sofa.

"The idea does not seem that bad. I am, er…fond of you and the prospect does not repulse me."

"Er…thanks?"

"John you know that I am not good expressing what I feel."

They both sit in an awkward silence, both fidgeting and stealing glances at each other.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Sherlock shouts in annoyance, storms over to John and plants his lips on his firmly. John is taken aback but immediately reciprocates. They separate for a second,

"So are we together?"

"What do you think?"

John smiles into the kiss as Sherlock reclaims his lips. A squeal startles them and they look down at Hamish sandwiched between them. Sherlock moves back and picks up Hamish. Hamish looks at them both and stretches his hands so he's touching both of their lips. He giggles happily.

"If there wasn't a child present-" John covers Hamish's ears and whispers something in Sherlock's ear. Sherlock gulps. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He shakes his head and smirks at John.

"Promise me we'll do that later."

"Oh I promise."

They tilt their heads to kiss again and then an alarm sounds. Sherlock groans in annoyance.

"It's 3pm. Time for Hamish's nap."

Sherlock looks at Hamish, who around this time is always yawning and sees him already asleep. He frowns wondering whether a child should be sleeping this much but he places him in bed next to his favourite teddy and closes the door.

"Is he asleep?" John asks as Sherlock returns to the sofa.

"He was before I even put him in bed, is that normal?"

"I suppose so. If you're worried I'll check his vitals when he wakes."

"Ok, thanks."

As silence falls and tensions builds John asks a question which has been gnawing at him for the last few minutes.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you kiss me when you could have just used words?"

"Like I said I'm not good at expressing myself…plus it's something I've always wanted to do."

"Kiss someone?"

"No, kiss you."

John smiles and Sherlock does too. John finishes his book and heads to bed while Sherlock spends the rest of the night in his mind palace sorting out John's room. He joins Hamish and John at 2am, spooning with John like usual and surprisingly falls to sleep soon after.

…

Sherlock wakes up to find John isn't there but sees Hamish still asleep. He frowns confused then gets up to find John.

He walks into the living room and sees John on his laptop.

"Morning." John greets not looking up from the screen.

"Mmm." Sherlock replies ruffling his curls and sits next to John. "What are doing?"

"Researching common diseases children can get."

"You think Hamish has a disease?" Sherlock says worriedly.

"No, but I'm trying to figure out how much his trauma is disallowing him to progress externally."

"Like speech and walking?"

"Yes, partially."

"What's the other part?"

"You've noticed his breathing. It's laboured. "

"I thought he may have a cold or flu but he does not have any other symptoms and his temperature is normal. I tested him while you were at work."

"Good although don't use our son as a lab rat."

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"I read that the reason he is sleeping a lot is most likely because he's having a growth spurt. Eating a lot could be an indicator of a physical growth spurt whereas sleeping a lot could be a mental growth spurt. I'm not sure why he's not talking or walking yet."

Crying comes from the bedroom and Sherlock goes to comfort Hamish. He grabs a ready-made bottle of milk and microwaves it. He hands it to Hamish who drinks from it thirstily and they return to the sofa.

"Ah. Here we are. '_Most babies take their first steps sometime between 9 and 12 months and are walking well by the time they're 14 or 15 months old. Don't worry if your child takes a little longer, though. Some perfectly normal children don't walk until they're 16 or 17 months old_.'"

"Most children aren't abused. He does crawl and pull himself up to a standing position but he doesn't walk. Not in front of us anyway…" Sherlock trails off, hands Hamish to John and leaves for his room.

"Right." John says as he is abandoned once again as Sherlock goes into his mind palace. "I'll just speak to you." He gives Hamish a quick squeeze and continues researching. "Someone posted that _'At 4 to 6 months, your child starts to babble, combining consonants and vowels (such as "baba" or "yaya"). At about 6 months they can respond to their name. You may hear the first "mama" or "dada" now and then too. From around their first birthday, your toddler may begin to use one or more words and know what they mean. Her first words could well be a variation of "mama" or "dada". By around 15 months, your toddler will probably raise their voice at the end of a question. They may make hand gestures to emphasise what they're saying, such as pointing and waving.'_ You already understand what I say don't you?"

Hamish nods.

"Then how come you won't talk or walk?"

Hamish looks at John and shakes his head pressing himself into John.

"Are you scared? Worried? No-one is going to hurt you."

Hamish holds one of John's fingers with his hand.

"Er…do you want to try?"

Hamish places a finger on his lips.

"Interesting." Sherlock mutters from across the room causing John to jump.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"A few minutes. I know why he's not 'progressing' as you put it. You saw he put his fingers to his lips. That gesture is typical of a parent to a child for them to keep quiet. His mum use to tell him to be quiet so to not bring unnecessary attention to himself. Like you read out earlier at around 6 months he should be 'babbling' and at 12 months they should be fully vocal despite not saying anything coherent. I think because he was advised not to he hasn't spoken, when he's in company that is."

"Does he know too?"

"Yes. He understands us perfectly and that's unexpected of a child his age. He is highly intelligent." A tone of admiration enters Sherlock's voice and Hamish looks at him and he is complimented.

"Now, the reason for not walking I deduced from the bruising when we first found him. Hamish was knocked down by his father whenever he tried to walk, why, because he didn't want him to develop to the stage where he couldn't be controlled. How does walking stop him from being controlled? He was drunk most nights and if Hamish could walk he would soon be able to run therefore he could escape and evade him. If Hamish could only crawl then he could still be hit. Hamish learnt that if stopped walking he wasn't pushed over so he stopped. Is that correct?" Sherlock asks the boy softly. Tears spill from Hamish's eyes and he nods.

"It's ok." Sherlock assures and Hamish nods again.

…

Sherlock stands in the kitchen over 4 saucepans containing different poisons. He has taken on a case rated 7 but he still can't leave Hamish alone. He would ask Mrs Hudson to look after him but she's gone shopping in Cambridge with Mrs Turner so he is limited to conducting his experiments in the kitchen. He has fenced off the kitchen so Hamish can't get in and get harmed.

Hamish looks at the clock and counts on his fingers. He claps his hands twice getting Sherlock's attention and points to the door.

"Yes Hamish it's 4pm. John will be home in 10 seconds."

Just as Sherlock turns back to the stove John enters the flat to find Hamish beaming at him.

"Hello Hamish." He picks up the boy and spins him around. The high-squeal erupting from Hamish causes Sherlock to look over and he studies them both. _John has been promoted at work and his shifts have changed. He was asked out on a, no two, dates but declined them both. Hamish is happier when both of us are around._

"How was work?"

"You already know."

"Yes, but I thought it polite if I asked."

John smiles noting that Sherlock is becoming more courteous.

"Well the promotion means that my salary is up 10% and my shifts have lessened so I can spend more time here."

"Are you happy because of the changes or because woman still find you attractive without you having to flirt with them?"

John looks at Sherlock in dismay then rolls his eyes.

"You may be more human but you are still so oblivious to love. I'm happy of the changes, yes but I'm also happy because I'm with you. I don't need to go on any meaningless dates."

Sherlock is now stunned and he smirks turning back to the pots. He pours the different liquids varying in viscosity and colour into 4 mugs filled with tea and records his findings in his notebook. John removes a barrier so he can enter the kitchen; he picks up one of the mugs thinking it just tea. Sherlock is still buried in his notes and Hamish stares wide-eyed at the situation. John fishes through a cupboard looking for biscuits and Hamish starts clapping his hands to get their attention. Sherlock turns again and looks to wear Hamish is pointing.

"Yes Hamish there's John."

Sherlock turns back around pipetting one of the solutions onto a slide. Hamish, panicking now, stands himself up and attempts walking to the gate but keeps falling his legs unsteady. John takes out a biscuit and dunks it in his tea before opening the gate again and walking to his armchair with the mug. Hamish crawls then stands walking over to John. John raises the mug to his lips and Hamish yells.

"Dada!" His shrill cry fills the flat and both men stare at him.

"He spoke." John whispers amazed.

"He's standing." Sherlock states.

Hamish looks down to see his feet instead of carpet and falls on his bottom as realisation hits him. Sherlock immediately goes to him knowing something caused this sudden advancement. He picks Hamish up looking over him before resting him against his body.

"Hamish, what's wrong?"

Hamish points to John.

"John? What about John?"

Hamish shakes his head and motions drinking.

"His cup?"

Sherlock looks on the kitchen worktop and see's there's only 3 cups.

"Oh God."

He quickly takes the mug off John returning it next to the others.

"John you were just about to drink tabun. It's a nerve agent. Well yes it's a cup of tea but it is laced with poison. The victim on this case was poisoned and he drank it in his morning tea. These 4 toxins are the only substances that can be dissolved in tea and the tea remain unchanged. Basically it is clear, colourless, and tasteless liquid but is extremely toxic. You would have died within minutes of drinking it."

Sherlock walks over to the sofa and sits as he thinks how close he had come to losing John and it would be his fault. John

"I…oh…Jesus."

John rests his head in his hands. He looks up at Hamish.

"You just saved my life."

Hamish nods and smiles.

"Gone back to being silent I see." Sherlock comments.

"I apologise now Hamish."

Sherlock places Hamish on the sofa, pulls John up and kisses him deeply, their bodies close, their tongues entwined and their hands joined. They separate their breathing faster but remain close.

"That was for almost losing you."

Hamish grins at his two happy paters and walks over to them. Sherlock packs up his experiment and they spend the evening reading to Hamish.

…

**A/N – Sorry for late chapters, I have been so busy this holiday. Chapter 7 will be out tomorrow. Thank you all for your patience :) xox**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 7: Perseverance

"John?"

"Yes?"

"When we were worried about Hamish's health, did anything show?"

"No. He was all clear, why?"

"What do you think of this?" Sherlock lifts up Hamish's feet and Hamish giggles at Sherlock touches his toes and feet ticklish. John smiles at him and looks back down at his feet.

"It's also on his hands." John looks him over and looks at his face.

"I'd say he's got acrocyanosis. It's very common in children."

"Acrocyanosis?"

"It's where there may be decreased oxygen in the bloodstream. He'll be fine. He's survived everything so far." John picks him up and spins him around causing a high pitches squeal to leave the boy and he giggles again. Sherlock smiles and goes back to working.

2 days pass when Hamish wakes up in the night and starts coughing uncontrollably. Sherlock looks over him to see Hamish's lips are blue. He removes Hamish's pyjamas and vest and looks over his chest, it is also tinged blue. He carries on coughing and blood splatters the corner of his mouth.

"John? John!" Sherlock shakes John trying to rouse him.

"What's wrong?" Hearing Sherlock's panicked voice he wakes up immediately and looks to his side at Hamish.

"It's spread. His body and lips are also blue. Is it the acrocyanosis?"

"No. It's central cyanosis which is really not good."

John takes his pulse and Hamish opens his eyes slightly, stretching his fingers to John's face before closing his eyes and John takes his pulse again, 10 beats per minute.

"He's barely breathing. Call an ambulance!"

John takes off Hamish's clothes and sees a dip on the right side of his chest.

"Shit. A lung has collapsed."

"How?"

"You know when you found him; his medical file said a fractured rib. It was left to heal by itself. Maybe his walking caused it to refracture and I think it's pierced his lung. That would explain the sudden difficulty in breathing and the development of cyanosis."

"The paramedics will be here in 10 minutes."

"Sherlock, that's too long. His other organs can stop working due to lack of oxygen in 5 minutes, mainly his brain. Grab me a pillow."

Sherlock does as he's told and hands John the closest pillow. John holds the pillow against the chest wall.

"This should immobilise the fracture and lessen the pain of each breathe."

"Of course."

_Ok. Ok think. Think of a solution. Hamish will die if you don't. Possibilities: bus – takes 20 minutes, walk – 33 minutes, run – around 18 minutes, taxi – 9 minutes. Got it._

Sherlock picks up his phone and dials a number he rarely uses.

"Mycroft, Zeus."

John can't hear the other end of the conversation but meanwhile changes into day clothes.

"Thank you." Sherlock concludes and hangs up.

"What was that about?" John asks.

"Mycroft's already sent a car; it should be here in a few seconds."

"He knew before you called him?"

"He knows everything…the fatty."

Sherlock quickly dresses and they leave when a car horn sounds outside. They enter the car and before they've completely sat down they're moving.

"What is 'Zeus' code for?"

"In Greek mythology, Rhea secretly gave birth to Zeus. She handed Cronus a stone wrapped in clothes which he swallowed, thinking that it was his son. It doesn't mean anyone is going to eat Hamish but I use it signalling that Hamish is in danger. Also we've kept Hamish a secret from most of our 'friends' so 'Zeus' is appropriate."

"That's clever."

"I know."

Due to many laws being violated they reach the hospital in 5 minutes. Hamish is still breathing but is unconscious in John's arms.

They sprint into the hospital, leaving the car doors open and head to the front desk.

"Our child, he's barely breathing."

Doctors that overhear come running over and place Hamish in a bed immediately. Sherlock and John follow.

"Do you know the cause?" A female doctor approaches them.

"He has pneumothorax which has caused him to develop central cyanosis." The doctor has a stunned expression so John continues.

"I was an Army doctor. John Watson."

"Ok, that makes more sense. I'm Dr Jones, nice to meet you. Well done for the pillow by the way. You should know that we are taking him into surgery now. The treatment for this is –"

"Placing a chest tube within the chest cavity, through a small incision near the armpit, under suction and water seal." Sherlock interrupts.

"And you are?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh, you're that detective. I like your website."

"Um, thanks." he replies off-guard.

"Back to business. Did he show any signs of pain or shortness of breath?"

"He can handle a lot of pain and mask it. He was breathing heavily when he slept. That explains his recent change in sleep; he's been sleeping more so that he doesn't consciously feel the pain…"

Sherlock focuses again to see Dr Jones and John looking at him weirdly.

"Sorry mental note."

"Right…what did you mean by he can handle a lot of pain?"

"Read his file."

The doctor walks away to collect Hamish's file. She reads it, frowns and nods understandingly.

"The chest tube may need to stay in place for a few days before it can be removed."

"Can we stay here too?" John asks.

"Actually I recommend it. I think he'll recover better if he is around people he knows and trusts given his past."

All of a sudden doctors and nurses rush to the surgical unit, their voices raised and panic clear in their tone. A doctor whispers in Dr Jones' ear and her face drops. She looks at Sherlock and John distraught and joins the other doctors hurriedly applying anti-bacterial gel and latex gloves to her hands.

"Hello? Excuse me?" John tries getting someone's attention but they ignore heading to the problem. They decide to follow but are stopped at the doors.

"Who's hurt?"

"A toddler had a collapsed lung, it's been punctured and he's stopped breathing."

Sherlock looks to John who says to the doctor, "Sorry about this." before grabbing his top and pushing him out of the way. Two security guards approach them and Sherlock talks them out of removing them noting that if they have any quarrels they can contact D. .

Sherlock looks on in the theatre room. A flat line echoes from the monitor and he slides down the opposite wall situating his head on his knees and skilfully controls his breathing. John finds him and sits next to him leaning on him.

"He can't be dead…he can't be." Sherlock almost whispers in disbelief.

Dr Jones looks out the window at them and joins them her face forlorn.

"Do you have anyone you can stay with? Parents perhaps."

"Why?" Sherlock muffles.

"It's best you don't return to the place that holds his belongings; it usually results in the parents making reckless decisions such as suicide, homicide or extensive violence."

Neither Sherlock or John respond. Sherlock looking dazed at the floor while John stands and looks in at Hamish whose body is immobile and tinted blue by deoxygenated blood.

"I'm sorry but he's –"

A beep from the other room causes them all to look in. Surgeons recording the time of death and removing their masks whisk round to the cardiac monitor where the noise came from. The same noise is emitted and the doctors surround the infant. Dr Jones heads back into theatre and is informed of the situation. Before Hamish flat lined he was almost fully treated. A doctor finished placing the special bandage containing petroleum jelly on the wound to create a seal so air can escape the wound but not return and the rib was realigned in order for it to heal properly. His body was just resetting allowing enough oxygen to return so his organs could function. His heart begins to beat.

Sherlock and John continue to look on now with other doctors and nurses watching the event. They witness Hamish's leg twitch and then clench and unclench his fists as he returns to the living.

"He's going to be ok." Dr Jones marvels in mass confusion yet is relived.

John laughs in disbelief and joy while Sherlock looks intently at the boy.

"It's amazing he's alive, to be honest, he shouldn't be not with those injuries at his age. In my 5 years as a paediatric nurse I have never encountered anything like this. He is a fighter."

"Yes he is." Sherlock agrees.

Once it is assured Hamish is safe to be moved he is taken to intensive care where he will remain for 6 weeks with Sherlock and John by his side.

…

**A/N – DOCTOR WHO TONIGHT YAY! (May extend later) I'm at Centre Parcs Monday 25****th**** till Friday 29****th****. Depending when I get back chapter 8 may be out on the 29****th**** or the 30****th****. I wonder whether Hamish will make a full recovery…yes I am that cruel…follow to find out xox**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 8: Recovery

Hamish is observed for several days to make sure the collapsed lung re-expands completely and receives oxygen through a mask to ensure that recovery. A week later Hamish is released and the rib will heal correctly they are assured.

A taxi drive later they are carrying Hamish through the front door and they sit on the sofa. Hamish is still drowsy due to the anaesthetic so John envelops him in in Sherlock's bed allowing him to sleep and leaves the door slightly open.

John returns to the living room to find Sherlock already lying on the sofa unexpectedly asleep. John sighs and lifts his head up resting it in his lap. It's been a tiring week and John soon follows into slumber.

_4pm_

John wakes up to find the space beside him empty and a blanket covering his lap. He blinks a few times and is greeted with a cup of tea.

"Thanks." he mutters taking a sip. He looks up to see the detective in his second best dressing gown and casual clothes.

"Not going out then?"

"No."

"It's been a while since we've had a night in, it's nice."

"Is it?"

"You don't get up at 6am every weekday but then again you don't sleep."

John puts down his laptop and looks to Sherlock.

"Move over."

"Why?"

"Just move."

Sherlock sighs and sits up allowing John to sit down. John turns on the TV and they watch 2 episodes of _How I met your mother_ of an omnibus before Sherlock starts fidgeting. John on the other hand is enjoying it thoroughly, he hasn't properly laughed for a while and this nonsense was greatly humourous. Sherlock's constant moving and shifting distracts John from the show and John growls in annoyance.

"Stop…please."

"Stop what?"

"Moving."

"I'm bored John. This is boring."

"Stand."

Sherlock goes to counter his command but stops as John glares at him. HE stands and John stretches his feet.

"Sit."

Sherlock sits and John pulls him down so he is lying on his chest. John becomes engrossed with the show again and Sherlock is still.

_6pm_

"This is nice." Sherlock comments.

"Good."

"Can we do it more?"

"Sure."

As Sherlock settles, listening to John's heart beat steadily; he wraps his arms around John's waist.

"You've been a lot more commanding lately."

"Well you only do what you're told when it's delivered firmly."

"It's your 'Captain' voice."

"Yes it is."

"So does that make you in charge?" Sherlock's face has changed from boredom to serene to playful.

"What are you getting at Sherlock?" John asks standing up, wondering whether Sherlock is conducting another psychological experiment. Sherlock stands too and closes the already small gap between them causing John to step back.

"I am just curious whether you like to control most situations."

"I…it depends." John continues walking backwards as Sherlock walks towards him.

"So say, hypothetically, do you prefer to dominate while you make love or be dominated?"

Not wanting Sherlock to feel like he is at an advantage he repeats, "It depends."

"Then show me."

John stops as he feels a solid mass behind him. Sherlock has him cornered and a smile plays at the corner of his lips.

_What has gotten Sherlock into this state? Who cares, just go with it._

The sexual atmosphere fuelling him on he reiterates, "Where would you like to me show you? On the floor? In my bed? In your bed? Or what about the kitchen table? I know, right here against this wall."

Sherlock steps back as the scenarios are hurled at him causing his head to fill with one word, _John_. As surprise flitters across Sherlock's features John steps forwards causing Sherlock to step back.

"What's wrong? Don't you want me to take you? Or you could take me I'm not fussed. We have all night."

Sherlock unashamedly moans and grabs John's waste pressing their lips together hastily.

"Wait." Sherlock pulls back his cheeks flushed and trousers slightly tight. He heads to his room and looks on Hamish, the only movement from the small form is his chest rhythmically rising and falling. He picks him up gently and the child whines. Sherlock comforts him and places a kiss to his cheek. He opens the flat and goes to Mrs Hudson.

The day they returned home with Hamish, Mrs Hudson commented that they could leave Hamish with her whenever they want. Sherlock was cashing in that favour. A minute later he returns childless and strides straight to John.

"Hamish?"

"With Mrs Hudson."

"Did we just remove our son so we could do it?"

"If you put it that way it makes us seem callous…think of it as protecting his innocence."

"Ok." John easily agrees and pulls the detective into his bedroom. Sherlock slides back on the bed and begins undressing himself as John joins the detective with unclothing. John places kisses on Sherlock's neck earning a moan from his plump lips and John relishes in the sound.

"Yoo-hoo, boys? Hamish wants his favourite teddy?"

John freezes his hand stilling on the waistband of Sherlock's trousers. John curses and rolls them on their sides.

"Anybody in?" Mrs Hudson's voice is closer and they look at each other, half-clothed and begin looking.

"It's…er…" Sherlock clears his throat and starts again, "The bear is on the floor by the sofa, left-hand side."

They hear Mrs Hudson's footsteps drift away and hear her shout, "Got it! Thanks, bye!"

Sherlock and John look at each other and both smile broadly.

"Could you imagine her face if she came in?"

Sherlock stops smiling and sits back on the bed.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not up for this." Sherlock sighs and rests his head in his hands. John's face becomes vacant and he joins Sherlock on the bed.

"That's fine. We don't have to do this now."

They sit in silence, Sherlock looking puzzled and glancing at John reading him.

"Can I ask something?"

"Anything." Sherlock responds softly.

"What changed your mind?"

Sherlock lies down and John copies his action.

"I was thinking."

"You do overthink things." John teases and a slight smile dances on Sherlock's lips.

"I was thinking about this." He gestures between himself and John. Panic flickers in John's eyes and Sherlock reaches for his hand.

"Don't worry you haven't done anything wrong. I…I think…I don't want to say I think we're going to fast as that is such a typical response partners give to each other. I just…I haven't given myself to anyone physically and emotionally ever. I don't want to disappoint you and well you know the rest."

John opens his arms and Sherlock moves into them.

"You know what I will ask you."

"Yes I do."

"And?"

"I know, I do and I love you too."

John tenses and looks down at Sherlock who doesn't even flinch or try to back-pedal.

"But I…"

"Like you said, I know everything you would say but I also know everything you want to say. I know that you love me and just as I have my insecurities you have yours, mainly being hurt when you have become so attached to that person. I didn't mean to alarm you; I was trying to let you know that your feelings are returned in the simplest way possible."

Sherlock sits up and looks into John's blue-grey eyes.

"I love you John Watson."

He looks away and his cheeks flush as he says the words that can crumble nations, never imagining that they would ever pass his lips. John nods slowly realising the significance of these words especially from Sherlock Holmes.

"I love you too." He answers and gently presses his lips to Sherlock. Sherlock turns and looks at his phone.

"I told Mrs Hudson to look after Hamish for an hour, it's been 55 minutes." Sherlock tells.

"I'll get him then we'll join you here."

"Surely this is inappropriate."

"Put your clothes back on genius!"

"Right." Sherlock mentally kicks himself for saying such a stupid statement. John grins, kisses him quickly before redressing and collecting Hamish.

_7:30pm_

John brings a cheery Hamish clutching a white bear with a red ribbon around its neck into Sherlock's bedroom and hands him to Sherlock who receives him smiling.

Hamish opens the bear's arms wide and gets his two fathers to do the same. He crawls over the duvet and in turn falls into their arms hugging them tightly.

John changes Hamish into his pyjamas and nappy briefly looking over his torso. There is slight bruising around his ribcage and the gauze dressing under his armpit is holding fast. He rests his ear to Hamish's chest making sure his breathing is normal before tucking him under the covers between them as he immediately submits to slumber.

"He's overcome it." Sherlock announces.

"Overcome what?" John asks not understanding Sherlock's unexplained statement.

"He has fully overcome his lack of expression. He laughs, smiles, walks on occasion and most of all he loves us. It's nice knowing we can be successful in helping others positively as well as solving crimes."

Silence surrounds them once more and John asks,

"Do you think he will talk again? We know he can and will if imperative but I want him too willingly."

"There's every possibility he will talk. He's just choosing when."

John nods understanding and strokes Hamish brown curls.

"Last question." John promises and Sherlock hums in acknowledgement. "Earlier you called us partners, was that knowingly or just a noun?"

"Does it matter?" Sherlock responds defensively.

"Not at all." John says wounded and turns over facing the wall. Sherlock groans and sits up stirring Hamish who rolls onto his tummy before entering sleep again.

"I didn't mean to sound like that. I don't know what to call us since every title sounds cliché but we have always been partners so why not stick with that. Basically no I wasn't consciously thinking that but I do see you much more than a friend."

John turns over, placing a hand on Sherlock's cheek and guides his head closer capturing his lips. Seconds feel like years before they unembrace both relaxed.

"Good night John."

"Night Sherlock."

…

**A/N – Early night? They have a child! Chapter 9 will be out on Friday 5****th****. xox**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 9: Baby Steps

Sherlock has convinced Hamish to begin to walk if he eats more. Hamish is a very clever boy.

"You are doing marvellously Hamish." Hamish hesitantly steps forward his face scrunched in concentration. His arms are raised ready to hold onto the nearest object if he falls.

"Almost there." Sherlock ushers and Hamish's face relaxes knowing he has almost completed his journey. He stops walking and looks up at his father sudden vertigo hitting him and he stumbles backwards.

"I've got you." Sherlock whispers catching Hamish.

John walks through the front door uttering a greeting as a he removes his coat and slams it shut. Sherlock looks up and frowns.

_Has been sitting in chair for 8 hours, sore shoulder. Almost had a punch up with one of the patients, he was on cocaine. Oh._

"You shouldn't care what people say about me."

John looks across at Sherlock's his features fierce and they soften when he sees his partner and their child.

"I know. How do you…?"

"The way I know most things, I observe."

"I would ask if you want to talk about it but given your current state I'm sure the flat would suffer some damage and given you're suspended for 2 weeks we need to reduce spending."

John looks at Sherlock shocked, ashamed and then upset.

"Can I?"

Sherlock stands up and walks over to John holding him in a tight embrace. John sighs allowing some of the anger to dissipate.

"I missed you." John murmurs and without any trepidation Sherlock answers, "And I you."

Sherlock lifts John's head and presses their lips together softly, lovingly and briefly given Hamish being present.

"We have a surprise for you."

Hamish gurgles excitedly and is helped upright by Sherlock.

"Walk to daddy." Sherlock whispers before letting go of Hamish. Hamish begins awkwardly stepping towards John. He falls forwards catching himself with his hands and immediately keeps trudging on his quest. John looks in awe as the boy finally bypasses another major step from his past. Hamish looks from the floor at John and smiles proudly, John copying the same expression. A couple more steps and Hamish is being whisked in the air by John his mission accomplished.

"Have you been working on this the whole day?"

"Most of the day."

John temporarily laughs and rests Hamish in one arm.

"Were there any complications?"

"Always the medic." Sherlock jokes. "I did take him to the hospital to make sure his ribs were healing correctly and that his leg muscles were developing too. The doctor said that his trauma is still preventing him from developing fully. I said the fact that he is trying to walk shows he wants to move on and is getting over the fear of pursuing this act. He was presented with leg braces that will help him learn to walk faster by keeping his posture and balance perfect. Nothing is perfect and Hamish refused to put them on."

"He had a tantrum?"

"I was so proud." Sherlock beams and John rolls his eyes jokily.

They make 3 bowls of strawberry jelly and ice-cream as a reward for Hamish.

…

"Sherlock? I think it's time."

Sherlock sits up fast and looks to John with an annoyed expression.

"They all know about Hamish. Why do we need to parade him about?"

"They've been texting me constantly asking me details about him. It's only fair."

Sherlock continues to frown then sighs not wanting to argue with John.

"When will they be here?"

"I'll text them to come over in 2 hours." Sherlock hands John his phone then goes to Hamish.

Sherlock's expression relaxes when he's with Hamish and his smile is genuine. John smirks at his phone then chuckles abruptly disturbing Sherlock from his concentration on the toddler.

"What?"

"Just their replies…" John hands his phone to Sherlock.

**Molly Hooper**

_Come to Baker Street in 2 hours. – JW_

_Does Sherlock want another body? – MH_

_No, but we do have a surprise. – JW_

_Is your flat on fire again? – MH_

_No…will you come? No more questions? – JW_

_Sure. – MH_

**Lestrade**

_Come to Baker Street in 2 hours. – JW_

_Is everything ok? – GL_

_We just have news. – JW_

_Are you guys hitched? About time. – GL_

_We're just breaking the news about Hamish. Just be here? – JW_

_Ok. See you later. – GL_

**Mycroft**

_Come to Baker Street in 2 hours. – JW_

_I already know about the child. – MH_

_It would still be nice if you came. Molly, Greg and Mrs Hudson are also coming._

_I'll be there. – MH_

_Thanks. – JW_

"What do you think turned your brother's mind? I know it's either because of Molly or Greg since when I mentioned them he changed his mind."

"My brother hasn't met Molly, I highly doubt Mrs Hudson attending makes him remotely happy and…oh God."

"You think Mycroft 'likes' Greg?"

"He has changed his bathroom routine recently; new hairbrush, new razor, new deodorant and shower gel."

"Let's focus on our own scandal before we start gossiping about your brother."

_2 hours later_

Mrs Hudson comes up first bringing additional snacks and punch for the evening. Next Molly arrives, then Lestrade and then Mycroft fashionably late.

"Couldn't get away from the Diogenes Club brother?"

"I have a very busy schedule, Sherlock. I'm not John; I won't abandon everything just because you ask."

Sherlock and John both scowl at Mycroft. Mrs Hudson breaks the tension asking how everyone is.

"I'm currently staying with my brother. I caught my wife with another man last night…again." Lestrade announces dejectedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Molly comforts and even Mycroft attempts to cheer him up. He just imperceptibly changes the conversation but it works effectively.

Everyone has a drink in their hand and the atmosphere soon becomes warm and chatty.

"When are they going?"

Sherlock asks John, fidgeting with his cuffs.

"They've only been here half an hour."

"I want them to go. I want to be alone…with you."

John looks at Sherlock judging whether he is using him to get out of this situation but knows when Sherlock reaches for his hand that he is genuine.

"Oh." Molly breathes as she looks over at John and Sherlock. Everyone's heads turn to them and John feels Sherlock tense as he is scrutinised; his mask reappears and he sits straighter alert and protected.

"Yes, we are together." John says stating the obvious. Smiles creep onto Greg's, Mrs Hudson and Molly's face.

"It's about bloody time!" Mrs Hudson congratulates hugging both of them.

"Are you happy?" Molly asks Sherlock not because she's jealous but because she believes he deserves to be happy.

"Yes." The single word lights up her face and she nods, happy.

"Brother dear, do please wake up your surprise I have a country to look after."

"Is that not the surprise?" Lestrade asks.

Sherlock walks into his room and then leaves cradling a just-woken Hamish.

Molly's mouth opens in dismay as the child clings to Sherlock.

"He's looking so much better."

"Yes." Lestrade agrees.

Hamish soon becomes alert as he looks over the strangers. He buries his face in Sherlock's neck and whimpers.

"They are friends. They won't hurt you."

Hamish peers up his azure eyes assessing the collection of adults. He relaxes as he sees Mrs Hudson knowing her then continues scanning. He stares intensely at Molly and Greg recognition registering in his mind from a time long ago. He looks at Mycroft and presses himself to Sherlock again.

"Regrettably that's my brother. He's…ok." Mycroft sighs and rolls his eyes leaning on his umbrella.

10 minutes pass before Hamish has been held by everyone, even Mycroft. He is currently being rocked by Molly. Sherlock's eyes don't move from Hamish the whole time.

"Sherlock?" Sherlock jumps and looks at John. "He's safe y'know."

"I know."

John furrows his brows confused then smirks as he realises Sherlock's behaviour.

"You are jealous." John states almost gleefully.

"No I'm not. Why would I be jealous?" Sherlock replies instantly.

John continues smirking and Sherlock exhales dramatically.

"Do you really want me to answer?" John warns adoring Sherlock's angst.

Sherlock ignores him instead leaning on him enjoying the contact.

"Do you think Molly reminds him of his mum?" John asks unexpectedly.

Sherlock looks Molly over and then Hamish. _Hamish is relaxed and unworried in Molly's arms. Molly's warm personality is similar of Susanne._

"Quite possibly."

"John?" Molly says and points to his nappy.

"It's your turn." John tells Sherlock.

He picks up Hamish, taking him into the bathroom where he wipes him down and changes his nappy. He hands him to John who blows raspberries on his belly causing the toddler to giggle and squirm as he's tickled. Sherlock heads to the kitchen and makes him milk formula and a ham sandwich. He shakes the bottle making sure everything is mixed and turns to see everyone but John looking at him in shock.

"What?"

"You…you…"

"Yes I know how to sort out a child." Mrs Hudson and Molly give Sherlock that 'mother-admiration' expression.

"You can resume talking." Sherlock urges diverging the attention off him.

His friends stop gawking and conversation starts up again. Once Hamish has finished his milk he yawns and motions to be picked up and put to bed.

"Has he talked yet?" Molly asks.

"Once, although it was a single word." John replies.

Sherlock takes a bite from the sandwich and raises it to Hamish's lips who also takes a bite.

The gathering goes on until dusk when Sherlock picks up his violin and plays classical pieces sending Hamish in and out of sleep as the melody plays like a lullaby.

"Will I be seeing you soon Mycroft?" Greg asks as he leaves the flat handing the elder Holmes his mobile number.

"I should think so." Mycroft answers smiling slightly.

Sherlock begins playing _I Can't Help Falling In Love With You _by_ Elvis Presley_ and Mycroft blushes furiously quickly saying he farewells to the detective inspector and glaring murderously at Sherlock who in turn gets glared at by John who tries his best to keep a poker face.

"I will see you soon Sherlock."

"Hopefully not but we don't all get what we wish for."

Mycroft nods curtly at John and leaves swinging his umbrella.

"You survived." John notes.

"Just." Sherlock answers and turns to face John. He strides over to him and quickly captures his lips, not separating until the need for air is necessary.

"What was that for?"

"Can't I snog my partner?"

"Feel free to at any time." John responds and Sherlock grins.

They lay on the sofa Sherlock straddling John's hips and are disturbed when the building starts to shake. They look at each other; hair tousled, clothes untucked and lips red but panic clear in their eyes.

"Get Hamish." John commands and Sherlock stands but falls when the windows shatter and the glass is blasted in his direction. He stands again and begins to his room when he narrowly avoids brick and plaster collapse from the ceiling and land on the sofa…where John is.

…

**A/N –Slight mystrade ;) Next chapter out on Friday 12****th****. xox**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 10: Weaknesses

Sherlock sits up fast on the sofa.

"What's wrong?" John asks looking at him from the kitchen.

Sherlock looks up and finds the ceiling intact. He looks at John whose body is unharmed.

"Thank God you're ok." Sherlock says walking over to John and hugging him tightly.

"Er…Sherlock? Are you sure you're ok? I mean…your hugging me. You never touch anyone."

Sherlock lessens his grip and steps back confused at John's words.

"But we…where is Hamish?"

"Who?" John asks still perplexed by Sherlock.

Sherlock steps back distancing himself from John. He looks about and finds no stuffed toys smothering the floor; he rushes to the cupboards to find them scarce of food like they were before their lives changed.

"Something's wrong." Sherlock mutters and heads into his room shutting the door and placing a chair under the handle just to be safe.

_Does John have amnesia? Unlikely since there is no sign of Hamish or of our relationship and he knows who I am. Is he being controlled? It's a possibility but who would? Think! What happened before this…the accident. The ceiling fell on John and the windows shattered. The explosion. I must be dreaming._

He searches his head trying to work out how to wake from a dream. In his childhood he would have many nightmares about school and he could wake himself up using one simple trick. Since suppressing his emotions nightmares no longer bother him so that fact has become distant.

_How do you know this is a dream?_

In dreams you always have extra fingers. He looks at his hands counting each finger, there were 6 in total

_What do you do when you want to wake up?_

Sherlock pinches his arm and opens his eyes looking up into smoke and ash.

…

Sherlock tries to sit up and hisses as his right leg is held fast by an overturned armchair. _Broken._

He looks to his left and sees a limp hand poking out from a few bricks.

"John?" He croaks coughing as he exhales a lungful of dust. He inhales deeply, aligning his body so he can reach the armchair; he kicks with all his might to rid the armchair off him. He shouts in pain as the furniture pulls on his leg and curses with relief as he is freed. Loud shrieking can be heard and Sherlock looks about the thick black plumes impairing his vision.

"Dada! Daddy!"

_Hamish._

Sherlock stands dizziness causing him to stumble and he hops towards his room bypassing broken crockery, books and chairs. He hears a banging on the door and shouts hoarsely for the toddler to move back. He opens the door having to push hard due to the hinges being bent and finds the toddlers face red and tear-stained. He picks him up and hugs him tightly the boy clinging to him with such ferocity that he is momentarily cut off from air.

"Where's John?" The boy asks his voice quiet. Sherlock would be rejoicing at the fact that his son is talking but now is not the time.

They head back to the living room and Sherlock places Hamish in the one part of the living room that hasn't been desolated. He uses removes plaster and bricks off his partner. John's face becomes visible, then his chest and then finally he is free. Sherlock places his head to John's chest and here's his heart still beating strongly. His temple is bleeding form impact and a couple ribs have broken.

"John?" Sherlock tries shaking him wondering whether the pain may have put him into a coma.

"John!" He says again tapping his face. The area around the sink has flooded and Sherlock fills one of the few intact tumblers will the water and walks back over to John pouring it on his face. John wakes up with a jump and groans as he inhales.

"You have no more than 3 ribs broken, major concussion and about 4 minutes until the flames reach us."

John looks about and sees debris and dirt covering the apartment.

"Hamish?" He questions and sighs when Sherlock points to him by the door.

"Ok. Let's go." Sherlock helps John to stand who swears profoundly as pain pulses through his body with every step he takes. Sherlock picks up Hamish and they look back wondering whether anything could be salvaged but are disappointed. More plaster crumbles away and sirens sound outside, the blue and red lights piercing the veil of smoke.

John grabs Sherlock's coat and scarf, his jacket and a blackened blanket that was on the sofa. He wraps the blanket and scarf around Hamish making sure the scarf covers his mouth and nose. He puts the Belstaff over Sherlock's head and his jacket over his own. John grips Sherlock's hand as they carefully go downstairs. The stairs creak and groan and smoke as fire threatens to consume them. The bottom two steps are alight; John swears and Hamish whimpers. Sherlock removes his coat covering the stairs and they step across it. Sherlock begins to still his breathing laboured and temperature dangerously high as he is now more exposed to the flames. His visions blurs and he sways as conscious threatens to leave him. The front door is open and they can hear an authoritive voice commanding to fetch water.

John looks over and see's Sherlock struggling to move the last few feet and his eyes slowly close his only working leg unable to keep him up. Hamish reaches out to him pulling his hair and Sherlock winces, the pain bringing him back to reality. They continue walking; suffering and exhaustion overwhelming them. They exit the building, the light blinding them, the cooler air is refreshing on their scorched skin and the knowledge that they are alive is unbelievable. Sherlock collapses the moment he gets outside breathing quickly as he tries to get oxygen into his body. John additionally lies down clutching his ribs in pain and keeps Hamish in his arms.

Lestrade comes into view first asking what happened and then about their injuries. Sherlock tries to speak but his mouth being so dehydrated his answer is barely audible. Lestrade thrusts a bottle of water at him and he drinks thankful.

"My right leg is broken…possibly in two places and my wrists are sprained. John is bleeding internally and has concussion…Hamish is fine…I think but do check him over." He manages to pant and lies his head back down on the concrete. 50 seconds later he sits up looking for John, vertigo surrounding him and pulls himself painfully next to him.

"You…?" Sherlock gestures with his hands then cringes as pain jolts through him.

"I'd rather go back to Afghanistan than go through that again!" John jokes then looks worriedly at him. "What's wrong with your hands?"

"I was thrown due to the explosion and landed on my hands spraining them. It's…I'm fine."

"You don't look ok." John states worriedly raising a hand to cup Sherlock's face.

"I inhaled a rather large amount of smoke. I'll be ok you just rest." He takes John's hand in his own and leans down tenderly kissing John. Sherlock leans over John's body and looks at Hamish.

"Are you ok?" He asks softly and Hamish turns his head to Sherlock and nod, "Such a brave boy." He comments and smiles weakly. Hamish smiles too and gently pushes his father to lie down.

"Sleep." He mutters caringly as he watches his father fight for consciousness. Sherlock looks at John who has passed out and lifts his top; there is prominent bruising covering his chest and he frowns. Fog begins to swirl in Sherlock's mind and he black-outs as paramedics come into sight.

…

John stirs in his bed and looks about. No-one. A curtain surrounds him and he reaches for the button hailing a nurse. A doctor in his thirties enters with a clipboard followed by Greg.

"Thank God you're awake." Lestrade sighs taking a chair next to his friend.

The doctor explains his injuries and when he can leave.

"Where's Sherlock?" Is his immediate question although it doesn't surprise the D.I.

The doctor pulls back his curtain and points to a neighbouring bed also encircled with a curtain.

"How is he?" John asks.

"You are all recovering well. You had the most severe injuries and your child is staying with his uncle."

"Hamish is staying with Mycroft?" John asks not believing what he was just told.

"And me." Lestrade adds but regrets it as the doctor and John's head turn to him. He blushes slightly and clears his throat.

"My wife has gone away for a couple days, she says for a first aid course but I'm sure she's sleeping with the plumber again, anyway having children of my own, although they're adults, I offered to help out with Hamish. It's nice looking after an infant again." Greg finishes. John smiles pleased in knowing Hamish is in safe hands.

"Thank you." He says. "Oh, how's Mrs Hudson? Did she get out ok? Is she hurt?" John bombards either male with questions.

"Martha Hudson?" The doctor asks.

"Yes."

"She was here briefly. She had to have some glass removed and had stitches but she left the same day."

"She's staying with her sister." Greg adds.

After a while John asks to be left alone and reflects all that happened. It only gives him a migraine instead of answers and he ups the amount of morphine flowing through him. He hears movement from the bed next to him and a familiar groan of discomfort and annoyance.

"Sherlock?"

"John?"

"I'm to your left."

Sherlock moves his legs over the edge of the bed and pulls back the curtain. His wrists are wrapped in tuibgrip, his leg is casted in modrock bandage and has a nose tube attached to a machine. He removes the tubes and grabs an oxygen mask attached to a tank on a tray next to him.

"Hey." He greets his voice rough. Sherlock goes to stand and he sways unstable.

"Sherlock stay in bed."

"Your bed has enough space for two?"

"Well yeah –"

"Then I'm moving."

John grins at the ridiculousness but he can't stop him and Sherlock knows that. Sherlock hobbles over to him taking the oxygen tank with him.

"They must have known you'd move since they provided you with a tank." John states smiling and Sherlock does too. John shifts over wincing as his body moves and Sherlock plants himself next to John resting to catch his breathe.

"You haven't recovered fully I see."

"Immweldjsifkebaploesn."

"You might want to take off the mask so I can understand you." John smirks.

"I inhaled a vast amount of smoke and the tube keeps the airway from closing due to swelling. It's been over 24 hours so removing the tube shouldn't harm me."

"You must be suffering because you're using it. Are you?"

"Good deduction John." Sherlock mocks and John childishly sticks out his tongue.

"I feel like I'm inhaling fire but it should pass soon."

"I wonder how long you can hold your breath." John trifles as he captures the detective's lips. They pull apart as John's heart-beat increases not wanting to draw attention from any doctors close by.

The male doctor enters again and stops when he sees Sherlock with John but he was warned that would most likely happen.

"It's good to see you're awake and mobile Mr Holmes. We want both of you to stay here for at least another night especially you Dr Watson, oh and Greg Lestrade is outside."

"He can come in." John confirms and the doctor nods before leaving.

"Do you know what happened?" Sherlock immediately asks as Lestrade sits down.

"We are truly baffled." Greg says and Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"I'll start from the beginning. When we found it your flat was on fire we headed down immediately but there were no fire trucks in sight. Some of my division went to the fire department as they hadn't answered any calls including our own and we found all of them unconscious, drugged. Gas canisters were expelling sleeping gas. Then we got neighbours to fill buckets but the water mains had been disconnected for 5 miles. Someone really doesn't like you."

"Who could possibly want me dead? I haven't worked for months."

"I don't think they wanted to kill you. A message appeared today."

Lestrade shows Sherlock various picture; 'The Game Is On' is engraved on the 221B door with a photo underneath. Another image shows the photo close up; it's of Sherlock holding hands with John and carrying Hamish from the burning flat. It is pinned to the door with a small swiss knife and a blood covers the right-hand corner of the photo.

"The game is never over." Sherlock murmurs but instead of joy and excitement radiating from him as it does when he receives a case, he looks sad and also concerned as someone would go this far just to get his attention means that things are going to get worse…much worse and just when his life was becoming normal.

…

**A/N – I'm so sorry I forgot to upload it yesterday! Next chapter out on Friday 19****th****. xox**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 11: The Game Is On

Sherlock and John have recovered fully although their injuries took longer to heal; being unable to satisfy each other or do more than kissing they would usually injure themselves or each other given Sherlock was wearing a leg cast but they managed to last the weeks. Hamish has bonded well with Mycroft and his uncle has even begun to like him too! Greg and Mycroft have been spending more time together and after divorcing his wife, who wasn't that bothered, he asked Mycroft on a date and he accepted.

However, the threat on their lives is still imminent. John has taken the week off work on what would be paternity leave juggling patients with Sarah who understood his predicament since she is married with children of her own, so he can work on their case with his partner. When he does go to work Sherlock always calls him twice asking if he's ok or anyone suspicious has come in. John would usually reply no and then Hamish would talk to him too. These calls were the best part of his day. Sherlock never lets Hamish out of his sight; always lying with him while he naps and taking the toddler with him when he goes to the shops or St. Bartholomew's.

Since the fire, words and names only Sherlock know have been sighted all around London including bloodied photos of him with either John or Hamish or both. It is Wednesday morning and 5 bodies have been found rotting by the Thames and all have one similar trait; their livers are removed and the word 'Sherlock' is etched in the sand with blood beneath them. The drained corpses have been arranged as a 5-pointed star.

"Could it be a cannibal?" D. asks trailing Sherlock as he investigates the corpses.

"I hope not since my last ordeal with one almost got myself and John killed." [See story, Floodgates.]

"I remember." Greg's face goes sympathetic and disgusted as images of the bloodbath come to mind. Sherlock's voice drags him from his thoughts.

"I don't think they have been killed for food, other organs would have been taken as well especially the kidney. I think whoever did this are selling organs on the black market. The incision is skilled, most likely made by a scalpel suggesting this person is or was a surgeon, knows his way around the human body and wants to keep it intact, therefore supporting my black market theory."

"So how are we meant to find the dealer?"

"DNA evidence would have been washed away. We need to do a search of males aged 20-50 in this region that are or were surgeons."

"Ok." Lestrade responds walking off to tell the others.

The scene is documented and forensics gets to work on the samples while Sherlock conducts some experiments of his own.

_Reconsider your theory. Yes the incision was made by a practiced hand but why would he need or want to sell them? Surgeons receive £750,000 plus so why sell organs additionally? Extra money? Not needed unless greedy but greed is not the motive._

_The star could be linked to a flag? Country flags with stars: America, Australia, New Zealand, China-This isn't a terrorist act, countries ruled out. Most likely symbolism of star: success, good luck, navigation, light in the darkness, good health, gay and lesbian community, rule of god over the universe, protection against evil, femininity, celestial sky ,faith._

_Not rule of God, not good health, not success, not femininity, not light in the darkness. Gay and lesbian community - I'm going out with John. Why does that matter? Faith, could be an act to God, like a sacrifice? Wishing me good luck with this game?_

Sherlock heads to the Morgue where Molly has started to analyse the victims.

"What have you found?" Sherlock asks his deep baritone voice laced with urgency.

"The victims were coated in a mixture of formaldehyde, methanol, ethanol and other solvents…basically embalming fluid."

"He wanted to preserve the bodies?"

"It looks that way. Also where the liver should be there was a type of oil."

"What type oil?"

"It's found specifically in Jerusalem and legends call it _Holy Oil_. It's said to hold angels but since it's poured inside the bodies I think the killer wanted to keep the soul from leaving the body."

Sherlock frowns and rolls his eyes at the pointlessness of the murders.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"This is what I've been told. So, do you know who yet?"

"Mmm." Sherlock hums then turns to leave.

_If the oil is called 'holy' then the surgeon could be doing this for a God or in the name of God._

Sherlock leaves St. Bartholomew's and hails a cab to pick up John and Hamish before heading to New Scotland Yard.

"Lestrade."

"Ah Sherlock. I'm glad you're here."

He sights John and Hamish behind and smiles greatly as the boy stretches his arms to him.

"Hello Hamish. How are you?"

"Good." The boy replies and starts laughing as Greg tickles him.

"So, should we work?" John asks Sherlock as they realise that Greg won't be talking to them for a while now Hamish is here.

"Come on."

They begin looking through the files of the victims trying to look for the common denominator.

"John? Notice anything?"

John skims over the files and leans up.

"They were all adopted. Their parents died when they were young."

"And?"

John continues looking over the 5 files.

"They were homosexual and bisexual."

"Meaning?" Sherlock urged since John was doing so well.

"It's for us.

"Correct. Hamish is adopted his parents dead. We are 'dating'. Whoever this killer is, we know he has a type."

Anderson and Donavon walk in to Lestrade's office and sight Greg twirling Hamish in the air while John and Sherlock converse over the data.

"We haven't seen you around here for a while. Pity, we thought you'd gone." Anderson snipes.

Sherlock straightens up glares at him and growls;

"Greg would you mind taking Hamish out of the room. John and Donavon go too."

Anderson looks to Sally who is equally scared having never seen Sherlock responds this much to their taunts.

Sherlock continues glaring at Anderson takes two steps towards him and thrusts him on Greg's desk pinning him by his shoulders and driving his back into the corner of the table.

"Know that I, John and a toddler were almost killed because of this man and I am pretty pissed off. If you want to live I recommend you shut your mouth and don't open in until this is over." Sherlock snarls making Anderson white with fear. He is released from Sherlock's grasp, rubs his shoulders and back before scurrying over to Donavon.

As he exits he observes Greg and John's faces briefly and smirks at their expressions showing shock and amusement.

"Well I think all is done here. There's a new waffle house nearby although I don't see why American food is sold in England. Greg I'll text you later."

Before they leave Sherlock stops them and leans in close to John whispering, "Judging by your still dilated pupils, a clear sign of lust, I guess that my encounter with Anderson turned you on. Mrs Hudson wants to look after Hamish so we'll have the flat to ourselves. You can do whatever you want to me." Sherlock kisses him thoroughly tongue and all in front of Scotland Yard before they leave. John mistakenly turns back as they leave and see's every pair of eyes in the building fixated on them and their mouths agape in disbelief at the sociopath and army doctor. He turns back swiftly and grins.

…

There has been a lack of activity in recent days and this worries Sherlock most of all. The one thing worse than an active criminal is an inactive one. Sherlock would never publicise it but he is troubled; the two people he loves most are in danger because of him. Yes John knows the danger; it is what draws him in but Hamish, who has suffered more than any child should, is now in danger once more.

Sherlock paces up and down the living room while John sits at the table Hamish on his lap watching the toddler colour, well scribble, on paper.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not working right."

"Either that actually means something or it's just really bad English." Sherlock scowls then smirks at John's playful smile before his face returns serious and anxious.

"I can't…I'm not functioning as well as I do. Yes I haven't been on a case for a while but I can't stop thinking about you and Hamish. When it was just you I was less worried as you can look after yourself and I knew you'd take care of me but Hamish…he's an incredibly smart boy but he can't defend himself. Now there's another weakness on my list they have more strings to pull." Hamish looks up after hearing his name and looks at his quizzical father.

"Daddy?"

"I'm ok Hamish. Do you want a biscuit?" Hamish raises his arms as Sherlock places him on a blanket on the floor and he grins broadly as he is presented with two soft chocolate biscuits and a beaker of warm milk. Like planned he is distracted so Sherlock tugs John into the kitchen.

"Sherlock…" John takes Sherlock's unsteady hands in his own and squeezes them reassuringly. "You know that we _will _get through this. We always do. It may not be easy…hell when is it ever easy but although it may be bloody, we'll survive. We always do."

Sherlock absorbs John's words of encouragement and comfort and nods trying his hardest to believe those words.

"What can I do to help?" John adds as he sees Sherlock still unsure.

"Er…can we…can you…" Although Sherlock's proposition is unfinished John knows what he means. He doesn't care that Sherlock still struggles when suggesting physical contact unless aroused but the fact that he is with the detective full stop is enough joy to last him a lifetime. John releases one of Sherlock's hands and pulls him to the sofa so he is leaning on his chest press closed to him. Hamish looks over and starts to crawl then walk towards them. He begins to climb the sofa and John giggles lifting the boy and placing him with Sherlock. For Sherlock, hugs are one of the best intimate acts between himself and John. He loves John's warmth spreading through him, the steady beat of his heart and the sheer closeness of them. Hamish finishes his milk and falls asleep nestled against Sherlock's chest and an arm draped over him preventing him from falling.

John places a kiss to Sherlock's head as they lay there in peaceful silence. Sherlock readjusts himself so his face rests against John's neck and he closes his eyes welcoming sleep after the busy days he's had. As he stills his phone rings and he curses. John is mostly asleep too and he tries his best not to wake the pair. He looks at it, blocked.

"Hello?"

"You so easily dismissed me from being a woman. Rather sexist aren't you Sherlock?"

"I -"

"I know you're not but then again I didn't know you could be so easily fooled."

Sherlock remains silent so she continues, "Do men cloud your mind that much? Anyway, I'll let you get back to John…every moment with him may be your last. I'll be seeing you soon."

She hangs up and Sherlock slowly lowers the phone from his ear.

…

**A/N – This story and floodgates ****aren't**** linked btw, just promoting it ;). Thank you all for your kind reviews. I probably won't update weekly but from today I will try my very best. xox**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 12: Hamish!

Sherlock looks back to his partner and child keeping the phone in his hand.

_What does she want? Does she want to meet? _But despite all the questions one statement flares bright; _Keep John and Hamish safe. Should I tell them?_

Knowing the best way to keep them safe is to keep them informed, he wakes John up.

"I got a call from the killer?"

"What?" John's voice is thick with sleep and Sherlock can tell he was past the stages of REM sleep and feels guilt rise as he wakes his partner.

"Three minutes ago the killer called me. It's a woman and I think the reason she's doing this is because of us."

John rubs his eyes trying his hardest to absorb the vital information Sherlock is telling him and not to fall asleep.

"Because of us? Because we're going out?"

"Yes."

"So she's homophobic?"

"Highly, given her displays."

"You said the murderer was a man."

"I do still believe that the person who removed the organs fits the pressure and size of a man's hand. I am sure she is using someone else to do her dirty work but there is no point to removing the organs. That was to distract the police so they would hunt after a cannibal, buy her more time. More time for what?" Sherlock asks rhetorically.

"Talking about time, what time is it?" John asks stretching and sitting up to disregard the fingers of the unconscious that caress his eyes and mind.

"9pm. You've only been asleep for half an hour…sorry." He mutters again feeling guilty for intruding John's rest.

John yawns and replies, "It's fine. At least Hamish is still resting. Shall we call Lestrade?"

"She may be monitoring them too." Sherlock sighs looking at a tired John and walks over to him, placing his hands on either side of John's face and kisses his dirty blonde hair, "Get some rest. The help of Scotland Yard will get us answers quicker but she'll be one step ahead."

"We'll be careful." John states, tugging at Sherlock's sleeve lightly for him to sit. Sherlock does, resting his head on John's and wrapping arms around his waist.

"Come on, bed." John carefully picks up Hamish, placing kisses to his face when the boy stirs slightly. They head to their room, not bothering in changing their clothes, laying Hamish in the middle of them and hold the others hand settling immediately, well everyone but Sherlock. He can't sleep, anguish, worry and annoyance course through him. What good is being a detective if you can't solve your own case? He sighs and turns from his back to his side, looking at John. He trails a finger down his cheek, smiling at how peaceful and young he looks, all traces of life's hardship vanished from his face. Sherlock thinks of getting up but knows John will wake when he feels his hand empty. It became a habit months ago; if in danger or in the middle of a case, John would rouse at the loss of contact. It also became a silent mean of expressing their desire; if the other was sad and needed comfort, if one wanted to be physical or if one just couldn't sleep, the other would stay up too caressing each other's hair, making meaningless patterns on any exposed skin or would just stay cuddled, mere contact easing their troubled mind.

_Whatever lies ahead can be dealt with tomorrow._ Sherlock thinks, forcing himself to close his eyes and quieten his thoughts.

…

Sherlock, John and Hamish spend over half of their day at Scotland Yard, using their software to trace the call from Sherlock's mobile. Hamish, dressed is given to Lestrade so he won't be distracting them from their work and also to keep Greg from bothering them too. Multiple frequency checks and satellite tracking allows them to pin-pinpoint the location to within 1 mile of their current location. It brings Sherlock hope that this situation may not spiral out of control like he predicted although doubt lingers persistently in the front of his mind.

John furrows his brow in contemplation. _She's clearly a very intelligent person, why conduct business near a police station?_

"Alright let's go." Sherlock says putting his coat and routinely takes Johns hand as the address is sent to his phone. They head to Greg, giving him a quizzical look as he appears without their child.

"I gave him to an officer as I went to the gents."

"Where is the officer?"

"Right over there…" Greg trails off as he is met with emptiness.

Sherlock's phone vibrates: _Missing something?_

"Sherlock?" John asks as his partner holds his phone in a death-grip. Sherlock shows the message to John and Lestrade whose eyes go wide. Greg runs to front desk asking about a woman officer with a baby.

"A woman left about 5 minutes ago."

"And you didn't stop her?" Greg asks in disbelief.

"He was crying so I assumed she left to not disturb anyone plus I wasn't told to stop them, _sir_." The receptionist replies impudently from being accused.

"Ugh, yeah sorry…sorry." He mutters running a hand over his face.

"CCTV." Sherlock says before darting to the surveillance room. He ignores the protest from the operator at his intrusion, simply pulling the wheelie chair he's on and pushing him away. John can't help smirk at that but his smile quickly dies at the situation. Sherlock looks for the time around 8 minutes previous and plays. A short lady wearing a black police hat, brunette hair poking beneath it in a bun and clothed in officers attire, walks out the compound, a distraught Hamish cradled against her bosom, and turns left.

"We could release a description of her." Greg offers.

"There are around 53 million people living in England and too many variables. Her hair is brown but is it dyed? What ethnicity is she? How old? Does she live in England? It would take months, even years to find her." Sherlock announces pacing the confined room. Abruptly he stops; his eyes alight with knowledge. He looks to John and they both turn to leave.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade asks.

"Finding our son." Sherlock answers simply and evasively.

"Do you know where she is?"

"I'll text you."

"Soon?" Greg urges knowing he's to be left blind yet again. Sherlock doesn't reply just continues walking, leaving NSY.

"So where are we going?" John asks keeping up with Sherlock's brisk pace.

"She turned left."

"Right…ok…so?" John asks puzzled.

"She wants us to follow her or she wouldn't have let herself be caught on camera. Just keep your eyes open."

They continue straight, looking for clues when John stops, tensing as a blue boot hangs from the wing mirror of a taxi. He picks it up, balancing the small item in his palm and looks to Sherlock who's staring at it, his eyes begging the shoe for answers, directions to their boy.

"The address on my phone means that she should be-" Sherlock glances up at a boarded building and points, "there." They both frown; John chews the inside of his cheek and clicks his fingers nervously. They glance about, glad for the evenings being dark early as very few people are around. They walk round the back, finding an emergency exit door which John shoots so they can enter. Clutching his gun, John searches the abandoned, stripped place for potential threats. All that fills the emptiness is a beheaded teddy, Hamish's favourite. Dynamite pokes through the stuffing protruding from the neck while a timer with red numbers displaying 5:00 makes their hearts stop.

"She's been in our flat." John says quietly, poised for flight if the timer starts. Sherlock does a three-sixty and counts another 10 explosive devices strapped to other toys and items of their child's. A click echoes and John raises his gun.

"_Dada! Daddy!"_

"Hamish?" Sherlock speaks his voice wavering, again both men turning round and round to find where the voice came from. John looks closer over the centre bear and finds the mobile they were tracking as well as small cameras replacing the button eyes.

"We're being watched." He whispers to Sherlock.

"And we can hear you." A delighted, female voice says, "Like what I did to the bear? Doesn't it look so much better?" A loud noise rings from the recording, followed by the sounds of rustling clothing and shoes against a hard floor causing their child to protest and shout, his sobs turning to screams of desperation and fear.

"Leave him alone." Sherlock growls. John has never seen Sherlock this angry, the closest he's seen him lose control in anger was when Mrs Hudson was hurt by the CIA. This bitch is definitely going to pay.

"Temper, temper dear Sherlock. Now, ask me what you have to." She sighs as though this is all becoming terribly boring, like how you feel after doing the same secretarial work for 10 years.

"Why is the bomb set for 5 minutes? Why not programme it to 2 minutes? We'd barely make it out; if we did leave the building we wouldn't be unscathed. Why not just kill us now?"

"You're no good to me dead…not yet anyway. Repent and you'll live and your boy will be returned. Don't and you'll never see his curly locks again. No child should be raised without a mother, I of all people know that –" There is silence as the kidnapper unknowingly reveals information about herself.

"You were an orphan?" Sherlock smirks at the new data.

"I will contact you soon Mr Holmes. Oh and John, Doctor Sexy, I'm single." The call ends and John looks to Sherlock confused and disgusted.

A notification rings out from the phone and Sherlock goes to read it, _How fast can you run?_ Sherlock looks back at the bear and around to see all the timer's at 2:00. He curses, calling for John and running to the exit. As they get there, a minute passed already the onesie Hamish was wearing is pinned to the door torn but bloodless. John stills, sentiment rushing over him and stretches a hand out to the soft fabric, tears filling his eyes. _How can this happen?_

"Come on!" Sherlock urges calculating 10 seconds, grasping his hand and pulling him with him. As they reach outside, they are thrown by the explosion behind them sending them against a skip holding the rubbish from the building. The weather has taken on their emotions, rain falling from the heavens accompanied by a strong wind. John looks up groggily, his vision blurred from concussion and the water drenching them. Sherlock remains still. John turns him over seeing blood covering his left temple.

"Sher…Sherlock?" He says choking on the dust filling the air. He notices a dent on the rusting, blue dumpster and places his head to his partner's chest. _Alive, just unconscious._ Rapid eye movement under the detectives closed lids suggests Sherlock fighting the grip of the unconscious. An amazing ting about Sherlock although unconscious physically, his mind never rests. Slowly they open; he turns his head away from John, bile spewing from his mouth. He groans and sits clutching John for support.

"Are you ok? Obviously not but are you here? Are you going to faint again?" John babbles, stumbling over his words.

"I can manage…staying awake for…30 minutes maybe." Sherlock manages, his frame swaying slightly. His grip on John is loose although he may be lost once more any second.

"Let's get back."

As John attempts to help him to stand he shakes his head wondering whether he is delirious from impact on the metal as a pair of feet materialise in front of him. He glances up at a figure standing in front of them, clouded by the rain. It crouches so he can hear them.

"You do not deserve him. You, and people like you disgust me. Until these innocent children are taken from all you filthy gays, my work will continue."

Knowing who it is he tries to stand and she stands up again, clutching a wailing, thrashing Hamish and continues walking at a slow, teasing pace. Cursing his vertigo he finds his gun a few metres in front of him and raises it, his hand steady like always. _I could hit Hamish by mistake. _More curses fly from him as he screams in frustration as he watches the woman disappear followed by a cry.

"Daddy!"

John, the caring medic, sits back besides Sherlock whose upright leaning against the skip. He buries his face against Sherlock's Belstaff as the taller man wraps his arms around him tightly.

"I couldn't'…I tried." He sobs, furious with himself for failing their child yet again.

"I know you couldn't. I can't do anything either, not for a few minutes but I saw her too and I know how to find her."

John looks up at him.

"How?"

"I…" Sherlock groans bile rising in his throat again but doesn't vomit, "Let's just…go home. I'll tell you tomorrow."

…

**A/N – Finally updated! Thank you all SO much for being so patient! Doctor Sexy! (Supernatural fans will get ^.^) Next chapter, out Saturday 7th, will test the limits of how much angst you can take…good luck. ****(Switching to Saturdays instead of Fridays so can fit homework in.) ****xox **


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 13: Pain and Vengeance

It's late evening; John has spent most of his day looking after Sherlock who has moderate concussion. He reluctantly stays immobile under John's orders and to John's surprise doesn't vomit again. John brings in two cups of tea, their fourth that day, and places them on their bedside dresser. Reaching for his drink, his dunks a plain digestive into his tea, biting it before it has a chance to collapse and splash into his brew. Sherlock has had nothing solid all day but does not fuss since he doesn't mind not eating. John takes a sip of his hot drink and gets back into bed with Sherlock, the detective automatically leaning against the doctor. Quarter of an hour passes as John continues reading a novel and Sherlock

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asks, his deep voice penetrating the silence and sits up from where he was previously lying on John's chest, as he notices his partner's increased heart rate.

"Yeah…well no but…thinking." John sighs, his voice wavering in defeat.

"Logic or comfort?" Sherlock asks.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you want a logical answer or for me to be comforting…I could do both." John smiles at Sherlock but his upturned mouth turns sad, sudden realisation hitting him. While they've been together Sherlock has always known what to do and what to say, he doesn't need to be told what to do since he is more _human_ than he was but now Hamish has gone, he's become more robotic, almost like resetting despite his still physical actions such as lying with John.

"It doesn't matter, I'm fine. Anyway, what about you? How are you coping?"

"Oh you know me, fine." Sherlock places a chaste kiss to John's lips making them both smile. He leans in again, capturing his partner's lips in a more heated hold taking John by surprise at the sudden action but he reciprocates quickly. Sherlock moves his mouth to John's neck, placing sweet kisses and soft bites along his lips. John tilts his neck so Sherlock has more access and he groans softly at the blissful pain. _Now is not the time._ His mind chimes and he opens his eyes, not realising he had closed them in the first place.

"Sher…Sherlock." He stutters swallowing a moan, "Sherlock…we…I can't."

"Why not?" Sherlock asks pulling back, his head titled in confusion. The fact he has to ask what's wrong proves John's previous theory of Sherlock not understanding what's appropriate in emotional situations. _Maybe he's filed it away?_

"It's…timing. We need to think of Hamish…not this."

"You're responding like usual." Sherlock states. John looks down and smirks, a brief chuckle escaping his lips, internally damning Sherlock for always inciting him like this as he wills himself to calm.

"Of course I want you, I always do but I can't be your distraction. Do you want to tell me what's going on in there?" John asks placing his hand against Sherlock's face which Sherlock instantly leans in to.

"I…I don't know. I want to find Hamish but anymore of feeling like this and I won't be in control…I need to be in control for your benefit as well as mine. God, I just don't know there's too much…happening and it won't quieten!" Sherlock ends up shouting. He sits his leg curled under him and rests his head against his chest taking measured breathes.

"Being with you helps my mind to quieten…" Sherlock adds almost in a whisper.

"I love you. I loved you before we were together and I still love you now we are." John cups Sherlock's cheek, using his other hand to lift Sherlock's chin so their eyes meet. Sherlock's glasz eyes, tinted ocean blue and mossy green, meet John's blue-grey ones. John's are full of understanding and love while Sherlock's look lost. Sherlock sits straighter and moves forwards on his knees to John who takes him in a comforting embrace.

"I love you too." Sherlock mutters into John's hair, arms wrapped tightly around his upper back.

Sherlock's phone vibrates and he separates immediately suspecting who the dialler is, he is correct. The number for the woman lights up his phone and he accepts it, putting it on loud speaker.

"Yes?"

"54A Croydon Flats. You and John come alone." The call ends and Sherlock looks to John. _Does this woman not sleep? I mean, can't she harass us at noon? _John thinks, quickly shushing his selfish thoughts as they dress from their round-the-house clothes to something more presentable.

…

A short cab journey later, they arrive outside the address. John removes his gun from his navy blue jeans, cradling it in his right hand as they approach the steps leading to the door 54A. Sherlock knocks, his leather-gloved hands using the gold-painted door knocker to alert her of their presence although he suspects she already knows. The woman opens the door just as Sherlock lowers his hand and she ushers them in with a welcoming smile. She looked like one of the mum's you see helping out at their child's school fayre and if it wasn't for the fact that she kidnapped their child and she's homophobic, John is sure he would get along with her.

"We never got your name." Sherlock says as he carefully enters her territory taking in his surroundings.

"Jane Jackson or I could say Jane Lane." Sherlock turns his gaze to her instantly.

"Lane. You are a relative of Anthony? No, you mention Lane because you are not related. Susanne's sister I presume." Sherlock announces

"Hamish's parents." John realises, "You're the sister of his mother?"

"Yes to both of you." She chimes gleefully like a school girl despite her being in her late 30's. Sherlock continues browsing; masses of baby products cover the floor accompanied with smashed, framed photos of what appear to be her with a child, a girl. The strong smell of alcohol follows her person.

"Sherlock." John calls from an adjoining room. Sherlock goes to him as he sits next to Hamish who's asleep in a stroller.

"Sshhh, you don't want to wake the baby." Jane whispers loudly, unsuccessfully trying to suppress her giggles. John reaches out to grab him but is stopped as Sherlock tightly holds his wrists and motions his head upwards to a contraption above. A tripwire is entwined on the walls; their gaze follows the wire where it fastens a knife which trajectory would pierce Hamish's heart. John closes his eyes, his fists clenching and he turns around abruptly.

"Why are we here?" He snaps. Instead of Jane answering Sherlock does.

"Jane here is a mother."

"You're sooo clever Sherlock Holmes…" Her voice slurs, followed by a hiccup and the same woman seen days previously, dressed in black tights, tartan skirt, thigh length boots while her top half was covered by a yellow raincoat as she took Hamish away from them again is currently clothed in sweat bottoms and a plain, long-sleeved, wine-stained grey t-shirt. Also a small revolver hangs loosely in her right hand.

"Oh great, mystery solved!" John replies sarcastically, not tolerating this unnecessary chit-chat. Jane sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically.

"What does it look like silly? You can take back wittle Hamish the cutie pie."

John's hands continue to rest on his gun, wondering why this drunken woman has suddenly ended her game. A silence emits as Sherlock calculates means, the woman eyes them both up, slight intelligence in her eyes despite being clouded by booze.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Sherlock suddenly states, making both of them jump.

"What?" John asks stopping as he sees tears fall from the captors face and the gun she's clutching tighten in her grip. She sniffs, quickly wiping her eyes and smiles again.

"Thanks. You're very well-mannered for a gay." John opens his mouth but Sherlock pinches him, urging him to stay silent.

"So, when were you told? You can't be more than 30 minutes drunk judging by the bottle of opened whisky on your table."

"Well done again, yeah I was told 35 minutes ago."

"Er, mind filling me in?" John says.

"A year ago I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl; I was classed unfit to mother her so she was taken away by social services. 3 weeks later a gay couple adopted her. 6 months after her adoption she was diagnosed with Tay-Sachs disease."

"A fatal genetic disorder which causes progressive damage to the nervous system." Sherlock tells John

"I am a doctor you know." John replies sarcastically making Sherlock smile.

"Ugh, get a room." She says making the motion of sticking her fingers down her throat. Jane walks up to the pram holding Hamish, her hand mere millimetres from the wire and she looks down snickering, a broad smile pasting her face as she dramatically moves over it to stroke Hamish's cheek. She moves back and continues her tale.

"I had been keeping tabs on my daughter from the very beginning. When it was confirmed that my child was dying I tried to get custom over her. Look up cures or doctors that could help…nothing. Most children with this disease die by the age of 3 to 5…not 4 months after diagnosis…" More tears roll down her face making John almost feel sympathetic for the woman.

"A gay couple took my child from me so why not take the child from a gay couple away from them? Especially the might Sherlock Holmes, I never expected you to take so long!"

"The disorder is genetic, it doesn't matter that her adoption parents were gay?" Sherlock says ignoring her comment.

"If I had her…at least she could have spent her last minutes with her mother not strangers. I deserve to have peace!" She yells waving her gun at them.

"Killing us isn't going to bring you peace." Sherlock retorts, raising his hands in a symbol of surrender. She continues to blubber, snot and salty tears running down her face. Crying sounds from the stroller all eyes turning to the black buggy.

"Oh look he's awake." She sniffs.

"Sherlock." John presses feeling uncomfortable with the bitterness in the air. She lifts Hamish out, soothing his complaints by patting his chest and shushing his cries. Sherlock notices how Hamish tentatively holds her. _At least she's been good to him._

"So, here's the deal. I'm allowing you closure with your _son_ before I have him."

"Excuse me?" John asks his eyes wide and he raises his gun level to her head. Jane turns her gun to Hamish's head.

"John." Sherlock warns foreseeing events and whispers, "The way her hand is grasped around the trigger and her current intoxicated state, you shoot her and in reflex her finger will jerk pulling the trigger and shooting Hamish."

John frowns and lowers his gun.

"Good. Now say your goodbyes –" Hamish turns around and gasps.

"Dada, Daddy!" He smiles and outstretches his hands to them. Jane's face drops and she looks at Hamish, hurt in her eyes, lowering the gun unconsciously. Sherlock grab's John's gun; shooting the woman in the hand then in the forehead so her body twists to fall on a pile of toys, protecting their son's own body when he falls with her.

"Sherlock!" John gasps in shock. He hands the gun to John.

"Pick up Hamish." He sighs knowing what now has to happen. Sherlock calls Lestrade giving the address and briefly talking about events. All the while Hamish looks at Sherlock, fear in his eyes. Sherlock ends the conversation, sitting beside John in the steps outside her house, muttering that they will be here in 10 minutes and stretches a finger to Hamish. He recoils whimpering. John frowns confused and turns him around, examining his eyes and body.

"He's in shock; his eyes are moving rapidly as if caught in a memory. I presume the gunshot reminded him of his flat, the night of the homicide. He will be fine, don't worry." John places a hand on top of Sherlock's. Sherlock moves it away keeping his eyes transfixed in space, avoiding eye contact from John.

"I know." He states.

"You know?" John repeats.

"Which ever one of us pulled the trigger Hamish would be scared of given he was looking directly at us. This will give you time to bond given you're at work most of the day and you know better than I about PTSD even though he's gotten over events."

"You killed Jane so Hamish wouldn't fear me?"

"It gives me a chance to control my emotions and sort out my head. He's a smart boy, he'll realise I was protecting him in approximately 1 month…if I'm lucky.

"Sherlock –" John starts but Sherlock stands and walks away, ignoring the increasing volume of police sirens.

…

**A/N – It wasn't letting me go on my account or logout/login yesterday, so sorry for 1 day delay! Next chapter out Saturday 14****th****. Hope you're enjoying this :) Thanks for reading xox**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 14: Trust

A measly day relentlessly drags on as Sherlock paces behind their well-worn sofa practically praying for the day to end. Sherlock struggles to hold himself together as Hamish refuses to be held by him or go within arm's length of him, depleting him emotionally and corrupting him mentally. John comforts him as best he can with Sherlock's shell having been partially rebuilt, emotional responses limited like old days which hurts John since he is a passionate person but he knows Sherlock is dealing with this the best he can without excluding him completely. It's Sunday evening and John holds Hamish in his arms, unwilling to walk, reverting back to his subdued state like he was when they found him. _It shouldn't' take that long for him to get over it should it?_ He looks at Sherlock in his anxious state, their eyes meeting once as he continues his pacing. John opens his mouth to speak, the intake of breathe making Sherlock turn and place a finger to lips politely as he stops his walking and heads to their room lying on John's side of the bed since the cot is on his side and he doesn't want to cause the toddler any more distress than he already has. Places his fingers under his chin he enters his mind palace not to sort it out but more as a distraction, letting the chaos to rush through him and keep him diverted from thinking deeply on his child's fear of him.

…

Sun rays burst through their bedroom curtain, blinding John where the light escapes through a parting of the material. He groans and shifts from his back to his side facing Sherlock. His face looks tear-stained although looking in a seemingly peaceful sleep, John frowns biting his bottom lip with worry and sadness at the pain of his partner. He joined Sherlock an hour after he left the living room as Hamish fell asleep in his arms and fatigue crept up on him too, stealing his right to consciousness. As if feeling John's gaze on him, Sherlock stirs, eyes blinking slowly in the light, his gaze beholding two grey blue irises. Sherlock raises his hand to his cheek, feeling dampness and looks away ashamedly. John checks the time; he has to be at work in just over an hour but remains where he is instead moving closer to Sherlock and taking him in his arms.

"I can't do this." Sherlock whispers, burying his face tightly against John's shoulder. John continues holding him in a strong embrace, legs tangling as Sherlock moves himself closer still. John places a kiss to the detective's bed-hair curls, staying silent as he thinks about what to say.

"Do you have to go to work?" Sherlock continues, nervousness verging desperation clear in his voice.

"You know I do." John replies reluctantly. Sherlock groans into his chest and sighs raising his head so only his bright eyes are seen form under his ruffled hair. "You are adorable." John mutters softly and Sherlock smiles slightly, moving upwards to connect their lips.

"Why don't you stay here and we'll fuck all day?" Sherlock asks, moving himself from John's arms to his lap. John's eyes widen at Sherlock's profanity and a smirk rises on Sherlock's lips. He knows his language and action will affect John's decision to go, it'll also affect his bank account but who cares about the rent? This time John groans in frustration and a smile covers his lips.

"I…we…Sherlock you can't use yourself to keep me here." John states despite desire burning in his eyes.

"Well I just did." Sherlock retorts placing his hands on John's chest possessively. John leans up connecting their mouths roughly and messily, his tongue dominating Sherlock's mouth, surprising him enough to roll them over so he can stand up to get changed. Sherlock whines and pouts making John laugh as picks out a pair of navy jeans, a grey plaid shirt and a burgundy cardigan.

"I'll see you in 5 hours, call me if anything _really_ bad happens and I'll call you on my breaks."

Sherlock looks over to the sleeping boy and inhales deeply.

"Ok." He responds chewing his bottom lip, a habit he's unintentionally gotten from John. John looks in the mirror wondering whether he has time to shave although there has been barely any growth since yesterday so he leaves it and quickly washes his face instead. Now fully dressed and with 20 minutes until he needs to leave, he makes 2 cups of tea and a beaker of Cowsgate for Hamish. Entering their room, he hands a cup to Sherlock and leaves the beaker by the drawer.

"Thanks." He mutters taking a sip from his beverage then frowning at the beaker, turning his head to a still sleeping Hamish.

"You'll be fine." John comforts, hastily kissing his partner, says his goodbye and leaves. _I should wake him before his formula gets cold. _Sherlock takes another deep breathe and walks over to Hamish in his cot, him sleeping in his cot alone making him anxious given he dislikes the thing, his refusal to stay in bed additionally hurting him. Sherlock walks over to the wooden structure, rocking it gently to awaken the child. Tiny limbs twitch and move, light blue eyes look upwards immediately going wide. A whimper escapes his lips, his head turning form side to side to search for his other dad. Water gathers in his eyes, his lower lip wobbling.

"I…Hamish…" Sherlock starts, he knows he can't hold out without John's presence, "Remember when I found you were in pain, so much pain and I wanted to help you. I couldn't leave you to be alone and scared. I helped you, I care for you, I will never hurt you. I love you so very much…" Sherlock trails off hoping his words are making sense, his voice thick with emotion. Hamish stops his tears, his head tilted to the side adorably, brows furrowed and lips pouted in contemplation. He raises his arms slowly for Sherlock to hold him, testing his trust.

Sherlock sighs, not realising he was holding his breath and readily takes Hamish into one of his arms, picking up the beaker with his other. Hamish takes the beaker, drinking half before handing it back to Sherlock.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Hamish?"

"Do?"

"I don't know. What do you want to do?" Hamish shrugs his soldiers, noticing he's still tense, Sherlock put's him down allowing him to walk. He hopes that if they remain in constant company of each other he'll relax. To his surprise and relief Hamish keeps hold of his index finger as they walk into the kitchen. With all the mess of Jane that destroyed their lives over the last weeks, a routine is still being broken into as they learn to relax without John needing to sleep with his gun under his pillow. Sherlock eats a slice of buttered toast and an apple while warming up a bowl of banana and honey baby food for Hamish. He holds the green plastic spoon to Hamish's mouth as he messily yet cutely eats the puree, food occasionally spilling past his lips. Hamish taps to his chest and motions to the spoon, he wants to feed himself. Sherlock's composure wafts thinking Hamish doesn't want him, need him but Hamish smiles up at him as he manages to get his second mouthful into his mouth rather than his cheek. He hands the spoon back to Sherlock smiling from self-pride and finished the rest of his breakfast. After Sherlock and Hamish are dressed, they return to the living room where Sherlock lays out picture books and crayons and paper for Hamish. It has only been one day since he shot Jane and with their energy sapped, Hamish managed to sleep restlessly but Sherlock notices he keeps looking around for his favourite teddy, the one blown up by Jane. _He wants comfort…should I hold him? Hug him? _Hamish stops looking and returns to the objects in front of him.

Soon, Sherlock starts experimenting on the table and stove; body parts are retrieved from the freezer with boiling arms & burning fingertips taking up the kitchen. A call from John distracts him. He gives a brief update on their progression as well as confirming they have both eaten and drank something. Pacing up and down the room as he speaks leaves the kitchen unattended, equipment still on. Their conversation ends and Sherlock hangs up, his focus drawn to the lack of mass near him. He quickly scours for Hamish turning abruptly to the kitchen where Hamish has climbed on to the chair he was sitting in, looking inquisitively at the blue flame coming from the Bunsen burner. He extends a hand forward.

"No don't touch that!" Sherlock yells rapidly pulling the chair, arms around Hamish's stomach so he doesn't fall. Hamish immediately flinches away from his touch, turning his face to Sherlock, tears falling from his face silently as did happen when he first moved in with them. The fearful expression on his face from Sherlock's shouting cuts into Sherlock like a knife.

"I just can't get this right." Sherlock mutters closing his eyes and loosening his grip on his child. Sherlock picks up Hamish, holding him to his chest and rubs his back in circles, calming him down.

"I'm sorry it's just because…" Hamish raises his arms around Sherlock's neck, his pudgy arms playing with his curls and he rests his head against Sherlock's. _I guess he understands. _Sherlock stops his experimenting, turning off and putting away all dangerous elements and instead walks over to the sofa still carrying Hamish. He turns on the TV leaning back against the soft cushions until minutes later Hamish leans up and directs them so Sherlock is lying down and he is lying across him.

The TV starts, voices spewed from eth speakers loudly causing the toddler to stretch his arms for Sherlock to hold him as he cowers in his neck frightened of the box.

"It's ok Hamish." Sherlock eases, quickly turning the volume down. The toddler stares wide-eyed at the TV and realises that it is not a threat, moving his head from the detective's chest. Sherlock puts it on a more suitable station, Cbeebies, and smiles at Hamish as he gurgles and laughs at the children's programs. Sherlock quickly text's John

_Me and Hamish are fine. Watching TV. He's tired but will get him something to eat. _Sherlock eats another piece of fruit, heating another jar of baby food and milk for Hamish before settling back down on the sofa where the boy is barely conscious, his eyelids droopy. After eating, Hamish stills curled in Sherlock's arms and falls to sleep, the emotional rollercoaster tiring him. Sherlock places a kiss to his head, turning off the TV and remains lying on the sofa. 10 minutes until John returns. Despite wanting to see his partner, exhaustion smothers him too and he closes his eyes.

John walks into their flat, removing his jacket but aims to be quiet due to Sherlock's text saying Hamish is tired. What he did not expect to find is Hamish and Sherlock asleep on the sofa, Sherlock lying flat, his hands around Hamish with Hamish lying on his chest one arm around his neck. John smiles and puts a blanket over them placing a kiss on both their foreheads before making himself dinner.

…

**A/N – Can't remember if Hamish has watched TV but this was on my plan so kept it. So, I do have time to update woo! Again sorry I keep putting you guys on hiatus but I want to keep updating fluent so am trying my best. Will try to update again tomorrow (22nd) although haven't even started writing yet! You must love me for my perseverance :P reviews are always wanted and needed, whether good or bad, so I know what I'm writing is what you want so don't be shy ;) xox**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 15: Family Outing

"We should have a break, go away somewhere." John thinks aloud. Wiping Hamish's face from breakfast and undoes the velcro on his bib, "Not somewhere far, we can stay in England but somewhere that isn't…here." He looks around at their flat, after the fire Mycroft had replaced almost all of their broken possessions and damages while they recovered in hospital but as their sleep pattern returned Hamish's didn't, he longs for his bear.

"Ok."

"Now I know you won't – wait, you said ok. We can?" John stops, shocked and excited.

"I don't see why not. We haven't done anything together for far too long." John looks at Sherlock bemused.

"What?" He asks accusingly.

"I never took you for the 'family' guy."

"My family life was functional; it's just my personal one that wasn't. Aren't you meant to go away with the people you love? Enforces the bond?"

"Yeah, yeah. Where do you want to go?"

"Like you said not far but definitely somewhere away from the city. London should be able to last a few days without me." John chuckles at the last bit. John finishes cleaning Hamish, smiling when he grabs his bowl and beaker and waits for John to move to the worktop near the sink so he can put them down. _I guess some habits he will never break._

"We could have a picnic in the countryside." John offers after thinking a while.

"So cliché but Hamish should like it. I don't think he's even seen grass given his shocked face every time an advert comes up showing fields."

"Ok, countryside it is. You don't think we'll be in danger do you? That anyone else wants to kill us? I don't think I can handle any more drama."

"If someone does then they should have a break too." Sherlock replies cheekily. "You'll take your gun?"

"Of course."

"Good." With that Sherlock heads to the kitchen and looks in the fridge, grateful Mrs Hudson bought them groceries, and begins stacking various food on the side.

"What are you doing?" John asks sceptical.

"The major component in a picnic is food, so it seems sensible to make something."

"You want to go _now_?" He inquires.

"Problem?" Sherlock replies nonchalantly.

"No…no. I just thought…right, ok I'll look for blankets."

"In your wardrobe, left-hand corner."

"Thanks." John heads upstairs, suddenly realising he hasn't stayed in his own room for over half a year. He heads to his wardrobe, grabbing two blankets, coughing as settled dust flies from the door before quickly closing it and leaving. He shakes out the blankets and re-joining Sherlock who has surprisingly done the majority of packing. In a cool bag are; 4 jars of baby food, 3 bottles of formula, a few toys Hamish packed, 2 large flasks of tea. Sherlock leaves the flat, John thinks of calling after him but he hears Mrs Hudson's voice so assumes he's gone to ask for something.

…

"Oh Sherlock, I hoped you were the plumber. What's happened? What did you do?" Mrs Hudson accuses wondering what he's done to the poor flat now.

"I, nothing. We're going away –"

"Aww that's lovely dear, a family vacation. Where are you going? What are you doing? When are you going?" Mrs Hudson excitedly bombards him with questions.

"Runnymede Windsor for a picnic and in an hour. Anyway, I came to ask if you could please, er, help me prepare the food? I'm not very experienced cooking."

"I'd be happy too but what about the plumber? To be honest I don't think he's coming, he should have been here at 9am and now it's quarter to 12."

"I'm sure John could help, you'd be surprised what he can do." Sherlock stops himself from adding _with his hands_. Of course he'd never admit it but he's craving John's touch, when they get back he's making sure he changes that feeling.

"Do you still have the food I bought you?"

"Hmm? Oh, er yes." Sherlock stutters as he dragged from his fantasies.

"How long are you staying for?"

"One day and possibly the night."

"Right, so I'll go upstairs and you can all stay here." Mrs Hudson bustles busily around her kitchen gathering ingredients she needs before heading upstairs and reiterating the plan to John who moments later appears at 221A with Hamish.

15 minutes, John fixes the leak under the kitchen sink. He calls the plumber to cancel coming, arguing with the manager about his man not turning up 3 hours ago. Ending the call pleased with himself, he inhales deeply, enjoying the smells coming from their flat. They return upstairs and find fresh baked bread rolls, chocolatey cupcakes with strawberry frosting, sausage rolls, salad and fruit covering every inch of the kitchen.

"Almost done." Mrs Hudson coos as she finished piping onto the last cupcake.

"Wow, this is amazing! Thank you so much." John thanks, hugging a smiling Mrs Hudson, hands extended so she doesn't get any flour on his clothes. An hour has passed, 1 o clock, and a knock sounds on the door.

"I'll get it." Mrs Hudson offers before John stops her, pointing gat her caked hands, literally! A black Jaguar XJ is parked outside, a man in a tailored-black suit, darkened glasses and combed back brown hair stands on their doorstep hands folded over the other smartly. Sherlock joins John by the door noting, _armed_ to his assessment.

"Whose car is this?" John asks.

"I asked Mycroft to lend us one."

"And he just gave you it?"

"Well, yes, you can see it can't you?" John gives Sherlock his bitch-face, raising his eyebrows as a signal for him to continue, Sherlock sighs as though he is explaining something very obvious, "I started talking about us needing a break, you know how well we handle emotional matters, so he gave in easily." Sherlock smiles.

"Huh, right." John says astounded before continuing packing.

Sherlock gets out his phone, sending a text to his brother.

_I told you to send an unarmed man. -SH_

_What if you get into trouble? I can't let my baby brother get hurt can I? - MH_

_You are aware of the past week right? - SH_

_Fine. Hurt any further. – MH_

Sherlock rolls his eyes, pocketing his phone and returns to packing their belongings.

"Er, John?"

"Yeah?"

"We don't have a car seat."

"No we do – oh god we don't. I was going to buy one the night of the fire, fucking Jane!" Hamish furrows his brows, his ears picking up on he cuss word Anthony often said.

"Sorry." John apologises, kissing Hamish's curls.

"Sir." The suited man speaks, opening the car door to reveal of baby-seat inside.

"Mycroft has really done well." John congratulates.

"Mmm." Sherlock agrees, not wanting to verbally acknowledge his brother's efforts.

The gent hands Sherlock the keys, making sure they're all secure before stepping back and communicating to Mycroft that they're leaving through an earpiece. 50 minutes later they arrive; the journey being reasonably peaceful, Hamish only making a whining noise at the seat belt digging into him which John renders before both succumb to sleep. Sherlock continues driving down an avenue of trees, no-one in sight. Perfect. Sherlock gets out his phone, taking a picture of partner and son sleeping before waking them. John turns himself round, attempts to unbuckle Hamish but can't reach him fully so leaves him for Sherlock to undo. Sherlock unbuckles Hamish's seat with difficulty to John's entertainment but he manages it, putting him in baby carrier across his chest, Hamish facing outwards. A beautiful canopy of pines, beech and maples, leaves of all colours, rustle above their heads on the warm air. Looking upwards, sunlight filters through the thicket, sending concentrated rays of sun around them. Even Sherlock marvels at the beauty of this wood, like the stars, he does appreciate such things. They continue with their walk, the rich scent of earth and dew filling their nostrils. Hamish gurgles happily, his hands constantly reaching for leaves and bark as he strokes his hand down them, admiring the new texture.

The ground beneath their shoes grows wetter, a small stream flows through a fissure, gradually widening as they follow its trail. They arrive at a mini fall, water cascading down smooth rocks, like a Buddhist's garden. Flowers overlap the water spectacle, droplets flowing off the curved petal like a chain of stringed pearls, causing ripples in the pool below. Where nature comes nature returns. Sun reflects of the water-filled leaves all slowly drooping ready to surprise an unexpecting creature that lands on the greenery. John looks to Sherlock, their eyes having a silent conversation so they continue to the pools edge, its peaceful surface disturbed from Hamish's wondering hand. The water is warm so they roll up their trousers, removing their shoes and socks and put their legs in, Hamish's feet just getting wet as he sits in the pouch. He marvels at his wrinkly toes, making noises of fascination and pointing to them. Sherlock notices the number of trees has receded as they follow the stream so he continues behind the rock-face, locating a single, large willow tree. He sits below it, placing their bags down and unzips both.

"Is here ok?"

"Here is lovely." John responds, sighing with content. John puts a white bib with a green rim and train in the centre around Hamish, fishing out his jars and milk while Sherlock takes out their own. John feeds and laughs, the deep sound filling John with happiness. He grabs a sausage roll, still warm and takes a bite while Sherlock peels an orange, slowly placing the segment in his mouth and bites into its thin flesh, keeping his eyes surveying the forest. John wonders if he knows how he's eating the orange, it is strangely hot. As if reading his thoughts, he finishes the orange and grabs a banana, peeling it and taking a large amount into his mouth, leaving it there for a few seconds before biting it. He suddenly turns his head so their eyes meet and John looks away blushing, he can see Sherlock smiling in his peripheral vision as he continues eating the banana tantalisingly slow.

They finish eating; drinking their flasks of tea before taking Hamish out of the sling so he can run about. Sherlock stays with him, holding his hands occasionally so he doesn't slip or fall. John pretends to chase him, Hamish squealing every time John blocks his path until the army medic sweeps him off his feet, pressing his body against his face so he can blow raspberries against his tummy. Sherlock laughs along with them, the love coming from all of them making the atmosphere so comfortable and enchanting. What seems like only a few minutes, the sun begins setting, blue sky turning to shades of light pink and burnt orange. Repacking containers and bottles, they load up the car, fastening up their sleep boy before sitting in the front seats, John driving this time.

"We passed a Bed and Breakfast on the way here at least 5 miles back; we can stay there overnight if you're too tired to drive or I could."

"No, no. I'm driving, it's fair. If we did stay, we don't have any other clothes though."

"Hamish's bag." John exits the car, opening the rear, looks into said bag and surely enough are packed a pair of clothes and nightwear for all 3 of them.

"We could watch the sun rise tomorrow then leave, if you want?"

"That would be lovely." John smiles, placing a chaste kiss to Sherlock's cupid bow.

Just as the stars begin to show themselves, they pull up to the B&B, parking around the back and book a room for the night. Although they don't voice their concern, both men are worried whether they'll even be allowed to stay here. A tall, slightly muscled man dressed in flannel and rolled up jeans walks to the front desk, a scarf hanging glossily around his neck.

"Hi! One room for the night?"

"Yes please." John answers.

"Aww, is he yours?" The man at the desk chides, a huge grin directed to Hamish. He stands at least 5ft 8", stubble framing his face and piercing green eyes complimenting his olive-tone.

"Er, yes." Sherlock replies warily.

"Isn't he cute! Hey Darren, come here." John stands guard too, hand on his back pocket over his gun. A smaller, blond fella comes from the back room. When he sees Hamish he smiles broadly too!

"We don't get many gay couples around here, or any couples given here is in the middle of nowhere! He reminds our boy although ours is 7. You been together long?" They relax, realising that the two men before them are a couple like them, a very open and nosy one.

"We've been flatmates for 5 years and started dating almost a year ago." Sherlock replies, making John's stomach flutter. He refrains from looking at Sherlock in awe instead thinking, _he does truly love me. _The men smile at the soppy tale.

"Our boy doesn't get to see many other children. If you like we could look after…"

"Hamish."

"Hamish for a while so you can both _relax_. The tension between you is honestly killing me!" This stuns Sherlock, being out-analysed is something that never happens. He and John look at the green-eyed man awkwardly, he laughs amused and calls, "Hugo!" A moment later a small blonde boy walks out, like his father's, his mouth turns upwards at the sight of the toddler, "This is…" The brown haired man trails off.

"Oh yeah, I'm John and this is Sherlock." John introduces. Sherlock runs his deductions through his mind over this family, coming to the conclusion that they can be trusted, if not the most unselfish, responsible people he's met in his life. Sherlock check's the time on his phone, 8 o'clock.

"If the offer still stands you can look after him for an hour." Hamish turns around, looking at the strangers and then to his dad.

"These are daddy's friends. Would you like to meet them?" The older boy smiles at Hamish waving his hand joyfully. Hamish smiles back waving in return and looks to Sherlock smiling and nods.

"We will come back in 10 minutes. Thank you for this." John says to the blonde, almost whispering the last part. They are handed their keys, being wished a good night by the owners and a wink from the blond one. They reach their room, barely containing their laughter as they relax, overwhelmed by the men downstairs.

"I like them." John says once he's calm. Sherlock nods in agreement. After they've changed Hamish and themselves; Hamish is clothed in a brown bear onesie, a present from Mrs Hudson while both Sherlock and John wear plain tees and sweats.

"Play time?" Hamish chimes. Sherlock knows he's not going to go to sleep any time soon given his excitement but his smiley face brings one to his own.

"Yes Hamish and we will see you very soon." Hamish nods, stretching his arms to be picked up and places a kiss to Sherlock's lips then points to John and he does the same. They return downstairs, Hugo also dressed for bed too; he wears _Roary the Racing Car _pyjamas and is carrying a large, sandy bear. Once again, thanking the two men, they return upstairs, barely making it through the door before Sherlock pins John to it.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Do you love me?" He asks seductively, his body language playful and eyes full of desire.

"Of course." John answers, interested that Sherlock is so aroused.

"Prove it." Sherlock says smirking, leaving their bodies flush, before dipping his head to the crevice of John's collarbone.

…

**A/N – Oh, did I leave it on a cliff-hanger? :P I know I said out yesterday but hadn't finished writing, thought about releasing half but the whole thing would be a better read. Hope you've all had a nice week off, if you're on school half term that is! Anyway, will keep you informed on progress so hopefully next chapter will be out on Saturday 28****th**** in the evening xox**

**Update 25/02/15: After spotting a mistake somehow I've now added over 300 words, I think this is my longest chapter! Shall try to control myself ;) xox**


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